


The Kapok Shade Detective Agency for Exotic Solutions

by tcs1121



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Addiction, Empath, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcs1121/pseuds/tcs1121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen was born an empath. With a touch, he can experience the physical and emotional sensations of another person.</p>
<p>Jared is a claire—clairvoyant, clairaudient, and clairsentient. He can hear, see, smell and even gather emotions from either side of the veil.</p>
<p>With Jensen's ability to feel the subject's emotions and pain, and Jared's extraordinary ability of communication, they work as paranormal detectives seeking the missing, the lost, the dead and the dying.</p>
<p>A new case puts Jensen's life in danger and Jared must use all his exotic abilities to find the perpetrator before time runs out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **My Artist:** [thruterryseyes](http://www.thruterryseyes.com/sn-art-11.html) who went way, way above and beyond for this story. Please visit her Master Post with so many beautiful illustrations: [~~HERE~~](http://thruterryseyes.livejournal.com/47263.html) Please read my note of thanks under the fin.
> 
> **My Tireless Beta:** [kee](http://kee.livejournal.com/) who always knows how to talk to me, what to say to help my stories along, and never lets me get away with anything. I love her more than just a little.
> 
> **My First Reader:** [spn_J2fan](http://spn-j2fan.livejournal.com/) whose careful attention to detail and kind consideration of these characters makes her a joy to work with.
> 
> **And Wendy:** The ever patient moderator of the [SPN-J2 Big Bang](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) I don't know how she does it year after year.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Untrue story. Character names are being used without permission. No money changes hands.
> 
> **A/N (1):** Two year age difference between the boys. The real Jim Beaver is younger than this James Beaver.  
>  **A/N (2):** Drug addiction and drug rehab, one brief suicidal ideation, one character is a cross-dresser (not one of the Js).

**PART ONE**

  
**_~~*~~*~~Now~~*~~*~~_**

"Jensen, come on, babe, wake up." Jared gently shook Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen's breathing was shallow, and he was drenched in sweat. 

"Please wake up," Jared whispered frantically. Jared needed him to open his eyes. Like air.

Jensen's IV display blinked, the heart monitors beeped, and Jared kept his breathing timed with his. 

Doctor Collins came in to check for progress and note Jensen's vitals. "I know you don't want to hear this, but he's getting worse. I thought he'd wake up within a few hours, but more symptoms are appearing."

"He'll pull through. Once she's dead he'll be fine."

The doctor placed a gentle hand on Jared's shoulder. "You have to find her before it's too late. Jensen's spiraling downhill fast, and unless she breaks the connection, it's possible that he could go with her."

"How can that be? It doesn't work that way. This is an empathic connection, not a physical one. Let her die. Let her rot for all I care. This will all be a bad dream once she's in hell."

"That's how we _think_ it works, but we don't exactly know what happens when an empath dies during an empathic connection. This is uncharted territory. We can't say anything with certainty." 

Misha looked down at Jensen. "Does this look empathic to you? Does this look like a mere connection of energies and not one of physical life forces? Jensen's muscles are weakening, his breathing is labored and his heart is working overtime."

"Jared," Collins gentled his voice. "He's dying. You need to get to work and find a way to break their connection."

Jared squeezed Jensen's hand harder, whispering in his ear, "It's all going to be over soon. We're going home and then we're going on a long vacation. Just the two of us at the beach, listening to the steel drums, and drinking out of hollowed-out pineapples. Please hang on, love, hang on."

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

  
**_~~*~~Jensen at four and an half years old ~~*~~_**

"Come on, Jen, honey. Play patty-cake with Abby. Babies like that. You liked to play patty-cake when you were little."

"I don't wanna. I'm not a baby now."

"No, but your sister is and she likes it when her big brother plays with her."

Jensen shook his head so hard, his blond bangs swished in front of his eyes. "Sometimes she likes it but not now."

"No, sweetheart," mommy said, bouncing baby Abby up and down. "She's sad because you stopped playing with her."

Jensen's baby sister was crying so hard in mommy's arms. Mommy kept bouncing her up and down, telling her "Shush, honey, shush," but that didn't make her stop. Jensen knew that Abby wasn't sad, she was _mad_. Mad and, and, something else.

"Come on _try_ , Jensen, maybe you can get her to stop crying." Mommy sounded tired and like _she_ was going to cry. "Play something with her or give her your fingers. She likes to chew on your fingers." 

Jensen's mommy said that it made the baby's mouth feel good to bite on his fingers, especially since Jensen's small fingers went all the way to the back where her teeth would be some day. 

He didn't like getting his fingers all slimy with baby spit, but his mother said so. Mommy jiggled the baby on her lap, sitting her close enough for Jensen to put his fingers into Abby's mouth. Abby still cried, but she chewed down on the tip of his pointer finger. Suddenly, Jensen felt the overwhelming urge to scratch. To scratch his _butt_. But his butt wasn't itchy. Was it?

Well, something felt itchy. So he kept his fingers on Abby's gums and used his other hand to scratch his left butt cheek. He scratched and scratched and he stared at Abby until his eyebrows furrowed. Abby wiggled and wiggled until her butt rubbed against mommy's arms. And the more Abby rubbed, the more Jensen scratched.

"Mommy?" 

"That's good Jen, honey, she's calming down."

"I don't think it's her teeth hurting." Jensen scratched the insides of his legs.

"That's because you are a good big brother and you're making her teeth feel all better."

Abby reared up and away from Jensen's fingers and wailed at the ceiling.

Mommy shook Jensen's shoulder _hard_ and swung Abby up into her lap. "What happened? Did you poke her tongue?"

"No, mommy, no."

"Please, Abby, shh, shhh, baby." There were tears in Jensen's mother's eyes as she rocked his sister back and forth. "Please, please, Abby."

"Mommy, it's not her teeth making her cry, it's her butt."

Mommy breathed in big and deep, "Jensen, Abby has a rash, but we put medicine on in and it's getting better."

"No, no, it's making her itch. And the itching is making her really, really mad."

Abby screamed so loud that Jensen covered his ears. 

"All right! All right!" She picked Abby up over her shoulder and walked out.

Jensen followed them into the bathroom, watching as mommy put cool water into the little blue baby bathtub. When she took Abby's diaper off, mommy made a "Sssss" sound with her teeth. 

"Her little backside is all red and irritated." 

"Not irrterated, mommy, _itchy_ ," Jensen said, indignantly pointing at his own backside. 

Abby was crying so hard she was hiccupping, but as soon as her bottom came in contact with the cool water, Abby clamped her mouth shut and opened her eyes wide. 

"Is that better, baby?" Mommy swished water in between her legs and all over her bottom. "Is this making you feel better, huh, sweet girl?"

Jensen rinsed his fingers in the cool bathtub water and stuck them in Abby's mouth before Mommy could stop him. 

Abby gnawed down on Jensen's fingers, but all he could feel was…better. No itchy, no mad. He took his fingers out. "She's better now."

And that was how Jensen discovered he was an empath.

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

  
**_~~*~~ Jared at twelve years old, Jensen at fourteen ~~*~~_**

Jared clicked his pen nervously, and tried to still his jiggling knees. Mrs. Lauren Tom, the teacher, or camp counselor or whatever she called herself was introducing him to the others, making Jared wish he was anywhere else but here at the Starr Summer Academy for Exotic Individuals.

"And as with all Exotics we have been given gifts to use wisely. Some of us came to our gifts early, like Jensen, here." Mrs. Tom indicated the boy sitting behind Jared. "Others came into them at a later age, like Felicia. How old were you, sweetie, about ten?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was ten when I saw my first shade."

"Ten isn't so old," the instructor said kindly. "And still others, like you, Jared, were born with them and didn't even realize you _had_ gifts. They were so normal for you that it took us a while to realize you were an Exotic."

Mrs. Tom addressed the others. "Jared is new to us this year. He's a Claire. Clairvoyant, clairaudient, and clairsentient. It's rare to be all three. Welcome to the Starr Summer Academy, Jared."

Jared stared down at his folded hands. 

"Before we start, do you have any questions for the other campers or for me in particular?"

Jared nodded with short little movements of his head. "Do I have to be here?"

"No, hon, you aren't a prisoner; you aren't required to be here. Your parents thought this might be a good experience for you, meeting other young people with talents like yours. But it's your choice. Do you want to leave?"

Jared turned to Felicia, "Why are you here? Is this place doing you any good?"

"I've been coming for four years and I like it," she said. "Here I'm one of the _campers_." She finger quoted. "But out there, I'm a teen-ager who sees ghosts reliving their last moments on Earth. That kind of ability doesn’t help a girl make friends. Some people are even afraid of me, but when I'm here, I'm the same as everyone else." 

The blond teen sitting behind Jared, whom the instructor had called Jensen, laughed and stood with his hands out. He flexed his fingers and exaggerated a stealthy step towards Felicia. "Take it back, Red. Take it back. You're not like me because we all know I'm _way cooler_ than you." He reached for the curls at the back of her head.

"Keep your magic fingers to yourself, Ackles." She smiled, slapping his hands away. 

Jensen opened his fingers wide, fluttering them to make wild jazz hands, "Admit it, I am pretty cool."

"Yes, yes," she sounded bored, "You're pretty, and you're cool."

"Damn right I am." Jensen wiggled his fingers in her face one last time before he smiled down at Jared. "So, you see dead people?"

"Yeah, like _that_ never gets old." Jared tried to act annoyed, but the atmosphere in the room was friendly. And they all seemed genuinely interested in him. "Yes, I can see dead people."

"Touchy, touchy," Jensen smirked.

"Funny that _you're_ the one saying that, Mr. Hand Man." Felicia stuck her tongue out at him.

Jensen crossed his eyes at her, and then turned back to Jared. "Anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Talking to dead people is okay, but can you do anything else?" Jensen teased. "Mrs. Tom says you're rare." He gave the instructor a lopsided grin.

Jared smiled softly, recognizing the gentle teasing for what it was. "Well, not only can I talk to spirits—I call them spirits if they're dead—but I can smell them, hear them, feel their emotions and sometimes, I can touch them."

"You can touch them?" Jensen was obviously impressed.

"Well, sort of. They're not solid like you and me, but I can feel them like I'm brushing up against the tip of a feather, or running my hand over a piece of cotton."

"Wow, that may make you even cooler than Jensen," Felicia breathed.

"Not possible," Jensen said. "But, dude, that _is_ way awesome."

Jared was emboldened. "And you know what else?"

"No, man, what else?" Jensen turned a chair around and straddled it, facing him.

"They don't have to be dead. I can sense live people, too. If there's a strong emotion in the ether, I can feel it. That's how I found my best friend's little brother when he got lost in the mall."

Jensen scooted his chair closer. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know how it works, but when Chad's brother, Chase, wandered into the candle store—he said 'cause it smelled good in there—and Chad, who told his parents that if they dropped us off at the mall he'd keep an eye on Chase, since he was only seven and Chad was eleven and a half…never mind. Anyway, it was kinda my fault, too, because both Chad and me were in GameStop when we realized that Chase was gone.

"First, I sensed this cold, scared feeling. That was coming from Chad. I closed my eyes and concentrated to see if I could remember the last time I saw Chase, but you know what?"

"No, what?" Jensen was sitting on the edge of the chair, tilting it forward.

"I felt that same cold scared feeling coming from out in the mall. I knew it wasn't Chad, but it felt a lot like him, so I figured it was Chase. "

"Was it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know it right away, and I didn't know where he was. I dragged Chad out to the middle of the walkway to look around, but zeroed in on the glass elevator that takes you up to the second and third floors. We got in and pushed the 2 and then the 3. When the doors opened on the second floor, I heard, in my mind, a little kid sniffling and crying. Then, when I smelled cinnamon, I knew right away where the smell came from. I grabbed Chad and we ran to the _Candles, Soaps, and Oils_ store."

"Was he there?" Felicia asked. 

"Yeah he was," Jared smiled. "The two shop ladies were hugging Chase and asking where his mom and dad were when Chad and I came busting into the store. Boy, that tall skinny lady gave us the stink-eye and the gray-haired lady looked like she wanted to slap us around for making Chase cry like that." 

Jared shook his head sadly. "Poor little kid. He was really scared."

"But you found him," Jensen said. "You were the hero."

"I guess I would've been if I hadn't lost him in the first place." He shrugged.

"Still awesome." Jensen held out his hand. "Almost as awesome as me."

Jared shook Jensen's hand and smiled. He didn't remember a time he felt this special. In a good way.

"Do you see dead people, too?" he asked Jensen.

Jensen smiled. "Nope, my exotic talent is that I can feel what others are feeling when I touch them. If I was touching someone—reading them—and they had stubbed their toe, my toe would hurt just the same as theirs."

"Wow." Jared was impressed. He didn't know such a talent existed. 

"Yup."

"So," Jared folded his arms across his chest, tipped his chin up and asked, "Anything else?"

Jensen burst out laughing at being given a taste of his own medicine.

"As a matter of fact, yes, smartass." Jensen smiled. "I can also feel people's emotions."

"Feelings in their body _and_ feelings in their mind? All of them?"

"If I want to. I can feel both the physical and emotional as if they were my own. Coming here for the summers has taught me how to tone down everybody else and filter the feelings coming in so they make sense—and don't drive me nuts. I'm also learning how to turn it off all together. That's hard. When I'm tired or sick, I wear gloves to dull the touch."

"That's amazing." Now, Jared was the one sitting at the edge of his chair.

"Thanks."

"If you touch me," Jared held out his hand, "could you feel what I'm feeling?"

"I could, but I won't, not now. When I get to know you a little better, if you still want, I'll show you what I can do."

"Okay." Jared scooted a little closer to Jensen and asked, "Do _you_ like coming here for the summer?"

Jensen nodded slowly. "I do. It's better for me here than out there."

"Why is it better?"

"I'm different," Jensen explained. "The kids and most of the grown-ups at my school don't know about me, only the principal and a couple of teachers, but I still don't like to be different. I don't like risking touching someone by accident—you know, when I'm not ready to block them. When I'm here, nobody makes the mistake of poking me, or shaking my hand without warning me first. I wish I didn't have to go back to my regular school at all."

"Don't your friends know?"

Jensen looked wistful. "No. I don't have a lot of friends, anyway." 

"Well," Jared said. "It's not like that for me. I have it pretty good at home. I get by okay. My folks love me and are used to hearing me talking to empty rooms."

"You can learn to protect yourself here."

"Jensen," Mrs. Tom shook her head. "Jared is safe, either at home or here. He doesn't need protection."

"What I mean, ma'am, is that he's young and can be okay for now with his best friend and his family, but when he gets older and other people catch him seeing things, hearing things or smelling things that they can't, they could get nasty. We can teach him how to handle that."

"I've been bullied before," Jared said. "I handled it." 

"You've been bullied?" Jensen looked shocked, and then sad.

"I couldn't hide what I've got, because I didn't know I had to. I gave myself away a long time ago."

Lauren said, "Jared, if you stay, we can help you control your gifts, and, maybe even your impulsivity."

"My what?" Jared looked at Jensen.

"We can teach you how to keep your big mouth shut." Jensen grinned. 

That struck Jared funny. He laughed out loud, "Sorry, but that ship's already sailed." 

"We might be able to help keep other kids from picking on you," Felicia said. "They helped me—gave me some techniques that worked for me."

"I don't have it too bad. Chad doesn't give a crap if I can see and hear stuff and he'll beat the stuffing out of anybody who looks like they're going to give me a hard time even if I _won't_ give him the winning lottery numbers."

"Why don't you give him those?" Lauren asked.

Jared rolled his eyes. "You don't give Chad something he can hurt himself with. You don't give him matches, anything gas or electric powered, and you don't tell him who's going to win the Super Bowl."

Felicia smiled. 

"That's pretty grown-up talk." Mrs. Tom sounded impressed.

"See, I don't need to be here." But at that moment, Jared wasn't as keen on leaving as he was when he first got there. "But, still, I might learn something useful if I hang around with you all for a couple of days."

"Good," Jensen stood. "C'mon, let me show you around, introduce you to the other freaks."

"Jensen," Lauren warned. "What did we say about that?" 

"Sorry, sorry. I can introduce Jared to the other _campers_ and maybe he'll change his mind and stay for the whole summer and then maybe even come back next year. How's that?"

Mrs. Tom sighed loudly.

"Why do you care if I stay or go?" Jared was honestly curious.

"I don't know." Jensen said. "Maybe you can teach me something."

~~*~~*~~

  
**_~~*~~Jared at fourteen, Jensen at sixteen~~*~~_**

"So all us freaks are back for the summer?" Jared shouted as he ran down the grassy slope behind Jensen. He picked up the pace, but skidded on the gravel path surrounding the barn.

"Personally I prefer to be called an EI for Exotic Individual, but, yep." Jensen breathed hard as he ran faster, increasing his lead. "All the freaks are back again, including _you_." Jensen veered right and sprinted off toward the grain silo. Jared tripped off his left toe, but recouped quickly enough to pour on the speed and catch up to Jensen at the turn. 

"How _do_ you handle your talent?" Jared panted. "When you're not in the mood to fight it, do you just not touch anybody?"

Jensen tucked his head down and ran full tilt toward the stacked hay bales. Jared matched him stride for stride until the path dipped. Jared leapt into the air and landed on the soft grass, rolled over, popped up and kept running. 

Jensen lost his footing on the damp, uneven soil. "No fair!" he shouted as he slid on the wet grass.

Jared bolted toward their made-up finish line and climbed to the top of the hay bales. He fist pumped the air in triumph. "I'm king of the world! Behold, my minions, and bow to your new liege!" Then, Jared stretched both arms out and raised his voice in song, "I'm gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware! I've never seen a king of beasts with quite so little hair." 

Jared swung his hair in a circle. "I'm gonna be the main event like no king was before. I'm brushin' up on lookin' down, I'm working on my rooaar!" He jumped up and down on the hay bales and struck a pose. 

"Oh my God!" Jensen doubled over laughing. "That's so wrong for so many reasons."

"Free to run around all day. Free to do it all my way." Jared sang, shaking his hips. "Oh I just can't WAIT to be king!"

"Stop it, stop it." Jensen laughed until he snorted. "Oh, God!"

"Oh I just can't waaiiit," he jumped down in front of Jensen, "to be kiiiiing!"

"You…you," Jensen sputtered. "Just burst into song any time you feel like it?" Happy tears ran down Jensen's cheeks as he hiccupped and wheezed.

"Yup. Better get used to it."

Jared smiled proudly watching Jensen, sitting in a patch of mud on the ground, laughing wildly, rubbing his right knee, holding his stomach, and trying to catch his breath all at the same time. 

Jared could stay here all day and die happy tonight. Jensen's laugh was the best sound ever.

Jared took a deep bow. "Care for an encore?"

"No! And don't try and distract me with your questionable singing. You won the race 'cause you cheated. You knew that dip in the road was coming up." Jensen's words were harsh, but his voice was happy and his moist eyes sparkled.

"Maybe I did, but only at the last minute." Jared stretched his hand out to help Jensen up.

"You asked if I just didn't touch people. I can touch all I want and not have this happen."

Jared's hand tingled where Jensen held it and a wash of amusement flooded through him. Jared knew that Jensen had "read" him. The happiness he felt was his own reflected back at him. Jared supposed that happy feeling flowed out of him into Jensen.

Jared took his hand back and looked at it up and down. "So, you can control it, now?"

"Yeah, and I'm getting better at it all the time. Oh, and you're forgiven. Apparently you didn't know until the last minute that the hole in the ground was there."

"Hey, I'm no liar, and don't go reading me without permission. There might be something in there I don't want you to know." Jared tapped his temple with his index finger and winked.

"Sorry, you're right. That was rude. It was only a surface touch, but I won't do it again." Jensen dusted off his dirty jeans as best he could. "Seriously, though. It _was_ hard to control at first, and I'm still working on it. Empathy is a difficult talent to live with. It won't be so bad once I get good at the filtering thing."

"How come?"

"People carry around a lot of pain in their hearts as well as in their physical bodies and I can feel it all." Jensen sat on a low hay bale.

"That's gotta be tough sometimes." Jared sat next to him.

"It is," Jensen nodded. "Once, my mom lost track of my little sister for a couple of minutes at a Seven-Eleven, and when I touched her arm to calm her down, I could feel her panic. Man, that was scary, but that wasn't the worst." 

"It wasn’t?"

"No, it was…" Jensen swallowed a couple of times. "It was my dad. My real dad. I live with my mom and stepfather now. But my dad was sick in bed at home, and we didn't know how really sick he was. I mean, we didn't know he was dying."

"Jesus, Jensen, that's awful. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, no it's okay, I want to tell you." Jensen took a deep breath. "I've never told anybody this, not even my mom, but when my dad was—you know—and I was holding his hand and he was breathing real slow, I almost couldn't breathe. My lungs got all heavy and I felt like a weight was pressing down on my chest. I opened my mouth wide and tried to breathe in, but couldn't get any air. That's when I looked at my dad. His eyes were half open but he wasn't looking at me. His chest was still, and then I couldn't feel anything at all."

"That's when he died?"

"It must have been, but when I said I couldn't feel anything, I mean _anything_. The fan was on overhead and the humidifier was spraying out over the bed, but I felt nothing. Not cold or hot or air moving and I still couldn't breathe." Jensen shuddered. 

"What happened then?"

"My mom came in with a basin of water and a washcloth. She might have said something but then everything went black. I woke up sitting on the floor with my back up against the wall. My mother was crying, shaking dad and calling his name." 

"Were you okay, after?"

"Yeah." 

"Wow, I'm sorry that happened to you, and, you know, your dad."

Jensen shrugged. "It's okay." He waited a minute before saying, "So how about you? You never told me when you first realized you were Exotic?" Jensen smiled shakily.

Jared kicked a few strands of hay off of his sneakers. "Well, I always had it. Problem was, I thought everybody could tell when it was going to rain, or knew that their keys fell out of their pocket and into the garden, or talked to dead relatives."

"You must be fun at parties. Or maybe you already know that you _will be_ fun someday." Jensen laughed.

"Oh, shut up, you." Jared shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes. "Can I ask you something and you won't get mad?"

"Sure." Jensen shifted on the hay, bending one knee then the other.

"Sometimes you look sad. I asked Lauren if that happened to all of us freakies, but she said mostly to people like you."

"People like me, huh?" Jensen smiled, gently.

"People like me," Jared thumbed his own chest, "we can talk to spirits, watch dead pet parakeets fly around, and see stuff like when your best friend is about to slide into a mud puddle." Jared nudged Jensen's shoulder.

"Yeah, keep talking, shorty." Jensen poked him back.

"Sometimes I hear spirit music and can even smell the last cigar they smoked. But they're ghosts and they're already dead so there's nothing I can do about it but listen to them and talk to them and make them feel less lonely until they pass on. But you," Jared scratched his head, "you can actually feel what _living people_ are feeling."

"I know, right?" Jensen sighed. "I touch somebody sick, who wants to die, and I feel sadness deep in my bones. Or worse, someone who is so angry, or sad, that they want to hurt something. I accidently touched a kid once who wanted to kill his dog. I told his mother and they gave the dog away, but, God, that was awful. He wanted to do it, too—I could tell without a doubt. I don't know how I'd handle it if I touched someone who did kill their dog, or their girlfriend, or tried to kill themselves."

"Jesus, their dog?"

"Yeah, and that's why I have to learn to filter the feelings I get from the people I touch. Apparently I'm a super sensitive empath and when you're too good it can be hard to be around regular people. But it's not hard to be around you since you're not a regular person."

Jared mock glared at him.

"Because you're happy all the time, you pipsqueak. That's why I like you. I get a hit of happy offa you when you're around."

"So that's why you're not afraid to touch me?" Jared knocked his shoulder into Jensen's again.

"Yeah, but, like I said, it's not nice to touch or read anyone without their say-so, so I won't do it again. I _can_ touch people without reading them."

"I don't mind. Anytime you need a Jared hit, just ask, and it's yours. In fact, you don’t even have to ask." Jared stood and smiled down at Jensen.

Jensen stood, ruffled Jared's hair and threw his arm around his shoulders. "Deal."

After they'd walked a few yards, Jared said, "You know what?"

"What?"

"You would make an awesome detective. You'd _know_ if somebody was lying."

"Yeah, maybe," Jensen smiled. "And you would make an awesome private eye. Finding lost people dead or alive."

"Don't laugh, but, being a private investigator is kinda what I've always wanted to do. Ever since I read the Sherlock Holms Mysteries, I've wanted to be like him."

"Yeah? How many of the stories have you read?"

"All of them."

"So, there were, like what? Four books?" Jensen was speaking easily and there was a bounce to his step.

Jared laughed. "Oh, man, no. There are four novels and _fifty-six_ short stories."

"That's a lot of Sherlock Holmes," Jensen said.

Jared turned his eyes towards Jensen and said, shyly, "I think we'd make a hell of a team. Between you and me, we could solve any crime."

"We could, huh?" Jensen's eyes twinkled.

"Yeah, we could find missing jewelry, or missing pets, or tell if some guy was cheating on his wife."

"Or find missing bodies. You could handle that part of the business."

"That would be right up my alley. Talking to dead people doesn't bother me at all, but I'd prefer to find them alive."

"You're something else, you know that?" Jensen smiled.

"Yes, I do know that," Jared said. "So, you'll think about it? You and me, traveling around the world solving crimes."

"Around the world, now?" Jensen chuckled.

"Yeah, like international superhero sleuths. Like, like, uh, an exotic dynamic duo, coming to the rescue. We could travel the _world_ solving crimes. It would be so cool, all the news people interviewing us, and the mayor giving us the key to the city for all our good works an' all." 

Jensen laughed. "Oh, good! My life's desire to be an international superhero sleuth is about to be realized."

Jared looked at the ground and blinked a couple of times. He didn't think Jensen would be mean on purpose, but it did hurt. "Don't make fun of me." 

"No, wait, wait, Jay. I wasn't making fun of you."

"It's okay, I'm used to it." Jared tried to brush it off, but it still stung.

Jensen turned him gently. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean to sound snotty. I wouldn't make fun of you—well not for real, short-stuff."

Jared brushed off Jensen's arm. "Forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway." He put his hands into his pockets and walked a few steps in front of Jensen.

"I've thought about being a cop." Jensen said to Jared's back.

"What?"

"You know, a criminal investigator, sort of like the ones who study evidence, data and extraneous information, only I would be more, excuse the pun, hands-on about it."

"Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true. I swear I wasn't making fun of your idea. I just…when you said…it's just," Jensen blushed and coughed. "I never thought of myself as a superhero or any kind of hero. You caught me off guard with that."

Jared smiled. Jensen had been Jared's hero since Jensen first turned his chair around to talk to him, years ago. 

"I know I'm only a kid, and I have kid's dreams, but I can't think of a better life. You and me, solving crimes, making people happy, or at least giving them closure." Jared looked up from under his bangs. "Do you think you could think about it? I mean, going into the detective business with me, that is, if we're still friends and we still want to?"

Jensen patted him on the back. "We'll still be friends, Jay. We'll always be friends. Hell, you're the best friend I have, so, yes, I'll think about it. We would have a blast working together."

"Damn right we would." Jared reached up to mess up Jensen's hair but Jensen was too fast and stepped out of the way.

They continued walking past one of the outbuildings that housed farm equipment. Now that they had their breath back, Jensen raised a hand to shield his eyes, "So, look out there. Do you see that tractor way at the edge of the pasture?" 

Jared looked down the field where Jensen pointed. 

"Uh huh," he nodded.

"Good." Jensen lightly pushed Jared away and made a mad dash toward the large piece of farm equipment. "Last one there's a dirty dog!"

"Oh, it is so _on!_ " Jared hollered as he bounded behind.

~~*~~*~~

  
**_~~*~~Jared at eighteen, Jensen at twenty~~*~~_**

"Where is he, Lauren? Camp lasts until we're twenty-one. Jensen still has a year before getting booted out."

"Something came up, Jared. In fact, a lot of things came up." Lauren spoke gently. "He won't be able to attend."

"We keep in touch throughout most of the year the year and he said he'd be here." Jared paced away from her. "But the last few months have been radio silence."

"Jensen has been going through a tough time at home. Also, his talents have escalated and he's had trouble controlling them." Mrs. Tom, who never seemed to age, chose her words carefully.

"What does that mean, trouble controlling them? Isn't that why he's been coming here all these years? So that he can understand his abilities and keep a lid on them? What is going on?"

"If you've been in touch, you know that Jensen's mother has separated from her husband, and that his younger sister is moving out with his mother. Jensen was staying with his stepfather so he could finish the last semester at the Community College before going on to the University." 

"I knew. He told me. He also told me he was going to be here. Why isn't he here?"

"Jensen developed…" Lauren looked into Jared's frantic eyes and started again. "The stress of Jensen's family coming apart, along with a sudden and significant intensification in his abilities took a huge emotional toll on him." 

"What kind of intensification?"

Lauren looked reluctant, but said, "Jensen can not only receive empathic input. He can transmit his own emotions into others."

"Can he learn how to control that?" he asked. Jared paced back and forth, then stated, forcefully. "He _can_ learn to control that."

"But he can't right now and it became immensely stressful for him."

Jared willed himself to be calm. "What did he do?"

Mrs. Tom shook her head. "It's not for me to divulge. If he wanted you to know..."

"The only reason Jensen wouldn't have told me was that he was too sick, or, or, too incapacitated." 

The panic Jared held at bay turned loose. "Is he sick? Is he dying? For God's sake, Lauren _tell me_. 

"Jared, stop." Lauren grasped Jared's upper arm. "It's not like that." Mrs. Tom pressed her lips together then said, "Unfortunately, Jensen turned to alternative solutions for anxiety management."

"Alternative solutions?" Jared thought about what that could mean. A cold dread settled in his chest. "Drugs. He's doing drugs."

Lauren nodded, sadly. "Yes. And even though chemicals can temporarily dull the senses, they never _solve_ problems. In Jensen's case, the drugs compounded them and he became addicted." 

Jared bit his lips. "Where is he?"

"Fortunately, he realized how bad it was getting and he checked himself into a rehab center." 

"I want to see him."

"That's not a good idea," she said, kindly. "He's in a good facility, consulting with Exotic experts, and getting the proper treatment. Try not to worry about him."

"Don't worry about him? Don't _worry_ about him? Don't you get it? They're either poking and prodding him, you know, _touching_ him or they're not. If they are, then he's fighting off all their feelings and emotions as well as trying to deal with his own. Or, they're not touching him _at all_. You know what a lack of touch does to an empath? Empaths have to touch. They don't always like it, but they have to. It's their nature."

"Of course I know that. They know it, too."

"How can you be sure?" Jared's whole body vibrated. "He could be suffering even more at their hands."

"He's not." Lauren touched his shoulder to still his movements. "I know he's not. I'm one of their consultants."

"Take me to him." 

"Jared, maybe he doesn't want to see you."

"Did he tell you that? With his own words, did he say, _I don't want to see Jared_?" Jared didn't need to be psychic to know that answer.

She crossed her arms.

"He'll want to see me," Jared stated. "And I want to see him. I have to let him touch a friend. He always said he got a hit of happy off of me. Please, I need to see him."

"I know you two have become close, but I'm not sure it's wise for you to become any more involved. Jensen has the medical and emotional support offered by a top notch drug rehabilitation facility. Visiting him may not be in his best interest—or yours."

"Of course it's in his best interest." Jared's exasperation was turning to anger. "He's close by, isn't he? I figure he must be if you're doing the consulting. Hey, I'm a freak, I can consult, too."

"Calm down, Jared."

"Come on. You know it takes one to know one. Well, I am one and I know that Jensen needs to see me. I _know_ it, and you know it, too."

"I _don't_ know that."

Jared took a breath through his nose and let it out. He calmed himself so he could speak in a normal, reasonable tone. "How about this—we'll go in to see him together. If he looks at me sideways, I'll leave. I'll turn right around and walk out. No questions, no fights. I promise. I _promise_."

Lauren shifted foot to foot. Her discomfort was obvious, but she finally said, "I'll make a couple of calls but I can't guarantee anything."

"Thank you." Jared paused and asked, carefully, "Will you nudge them with your mojo—convince them to let me see him? It's important. Please?"

"I can't go around indiscriminately nudging people to do my will." Lauren's words were clipped and sounded angry. "I have to use my own talents for the greater good and not for your convenience."

Jared placed his hands on his hips. "This is for Jensen. He _is_ the greater good." 

She looked up, her eyes boring into his. Jared stared her down until she blinked.

"All right," she sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

"Aw, man, I don't want you to see me like this."

Jensen was curled up in a chair by the window. He had bitten his nails to the quick and his voice was ragged, but he hadn't asked Jared to leave.

The brightly lit common room was the heart of Spinnaker Shores Drug Rehabilitation Center. Jared was sitting cross legged on the floor, looking up at him. "See you like what? Sick and needing help. Shit, Jensen, there's nothing wrong with that."

"There's _everything_ wrong with that. I'm a drug addict, Jay."

"But you came here for help. That makes you strong."

"No, it doesn't. It really doesn't." Jensen chewed on his bloody thumb nail. "I should have been stronger. I wanted to be stronger. I knew you'd be coming back this summer and I tried to clean up before then, but I couldn't."

"What happened? Tell me what was so bad that you had to take drugs." Jared blinked hard to keep his eyes from tearing. "Please."

"Before it went this far," Jensen waved an arm expansively, "I almost called you to come visit me at home. I wanted to see you. You keep me sane. You make me happy. I should have called." 

"Yes, you should have, and I would have been there the next day." Jared quickly wiped his thumb under his eye. "I'm here now, talk to me," he pleaded.

Jensen hesitated, tears in his own eyes, lips pressed together. He did look ill. His hair was oily and there were dark shadows under his dull eyes. Jensen's eyes were always so expressive, so _alive_. The Jensen Jared knew was always a bundle of happy energy. Now misery poured out of him in deep, wet breaths. 

"It would be easier for me if you read me. I don't want to tell you."

"You know I can't read people."

"You could psychically look into my past," Jensen replied, hopefully.

"I would, but there's so much worry and anxiety buzzing around you, it's creating a big, confused mess of energy," Jared explained. "But, I know what might help."

"What?" Jensen folded into a tight ball in the chair. He clasped his hands tightly around his knees, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. 

"Touch me," Jared said. "Hold my hand." 

A fleeting look of what looked like longing, fluttered across Jensen's face, but he closed up and pressed into the cushions.

Jared scooted closer and held out his hand. "You have my permission to touch me. To touch a friend."

That hopeful look returned as he looked Jared in the eye. "I don't deserve it."

"Take it." Jared stretched his hand, palm up to Jensen. "Hit me with everything you've got. Show me what happened."

"You'll feel me. You'll feel what I'm feeling." Jensen dropped his eyes. "I haven't been able to control that very well."

"You mean when your emotions bleed over into me, right? Lauren told me about that."

Jensen nodded. "I'll try to hold onto them, but I know that when I feel your emotions, you'll feel mine." He spoke to the floor. "I'm afraid you'll be disgusted when you discover how weak I am, and do anything to get away from me."

"I won't," Jared said steadily. "I can take anything you dish out and I'm not going anywhere." He nudged Jensen with his hand. "Promise."

Jensen's eyes zeroed in on Jared's. Whatever Jensen saw there must have convinced him, because he unclasped his hands.

"You have this knack of getting your way with me." 

"We both know that's bullshit." Jared cocked a smile.

Jensen leaned forward and latched onto Jared's hand, threading their fingers together.

Jared felt the raw buzz of Jensen's empathic forces shooting down to his fingertips, up his arm and through his chest. Jensen closed his eyes, readying himself to experience Jared's emotions—to feel Jared's heart beat from the inside out. 

Jared released his own fears and opened his heart. Today, Jensen would understand what he meant to Jared. It terrified Jared. But in the end that wasn't important, because, ultimately, what mattered was Jensen.

Jensen squeezed Jared's hand until his breathing slowed and his sage green, panicked eyes finally fluttered to half-mast. Peace and calm radiated out of Jared as all his gentle feelings of tender love and friendship flowed into Jensen. A different kind of tears filled Jensen's eyes. 

Jared wasn't an empath, so when the first of Jensen's feelings hit him, he was surprised and he flinched. Jensen's emotion was fear.

Jensen tried to pull away but Jared held tight. "Sorry, Jen, don't let go. I jumped because I wasn't expecting it. It's nothing I haven't felt before."

Jensen relaxed his fingers and his fear let up. Jared closed his eyes and fell into the psychic connection he was creating with Jensen. With Jensen's new-found, unwanted talent, Jared would know _exactly_ how Jensen felt when what happened, happened.

The shadows of the past and present began swirling in Jensen's aura. A whirlwind of uncertainty flooded his future, and the fear turned into distress. 

"Easy, Jen," Jared soothed. "We're okay."

Jared did what he could to ease the emotional tide pounding through Jensen's brain, recalling happy memories of late night chats, chess games, running races, camp fires, and planning their imaginary detective agency together. Jared calmed, so Jensen calmed. 

"Please, Jared, when you see…don't hate me," Jensen begged. 

Jared opened his eyes and looked into Jensen's dark-rimmed ones. "Not possible."

He held tight to Jensen's hand, took in a breath and let his eyes roll back. The whoosh of his psychic energy filled the room. Suddenly, the day room was filled with people from a distant past. Men wore Fu Manchu mustaches and the women's hair were all blow-dried, hair sprayed and tall. A flood of activities whirled around him. It seems that Spinnaker Shores used to be a convalescent home called The Infant of Prague Center for Recovery. 

Everything he had learned on how to block Jensen's forces, to keep both of their privacies intact, got shot to hell. Jensen wanted him to know the hurtful events that led to his drug addiction, and Jared needed to see them so he could reassure Jensen that their friendship could handle it. 

He narrowed his field to include only now and only Jensen. Events shifted, coalesced around him, took shape and became readable. 

Jared became witness to Jensen's recent past and saw his friend on what looked like a roof top overlooking a large parking lot. It was dark and Jensen was on the top floor. Maybe it was at an airport, or a hospital complex, he couldn't tell, but a wide expanse of cars was parked one level below him and the other parking levels were under roof, and there were at least eight levels of them.

He was very high up. 

Jared concentrated until Spinnaker Shores faded away completely, allowing Jared to join with Jensen's experience. 

The night air was damp, and a chilly wind was blowing. Jensen wore only a thin white tee shirt and jeans and the stiff breeze was making him shiver. Jared saw that Jensen's toes were awfully close to the edge of the uppermost ledge. 

"Jesus, Jen." Jared squeezed Jensen's hand, and the jittery empathic vibration under his skin made it clear that Jensen could feel his fear.

"I was so strung out that I considered making that last jump. I thank God that I still had two brain cells to rub together that night because I thought it out, I mean, really thought it out. Standing at the brink, I debated the pros and cons of my life. I thought about my mother, about my sister, and I thought about you." Jensen gently squeezed back. "I decided that there was a future waiting for me, with people who would love and support me if I were brave enough to try. I decided not to jump."

"Then why, Jensen? Why didn't you come to me? Why the drugs?"

"Watch and listen." Jensen placed their clasped hands to his chest and closed his eyes. Jared's psychic senses were overwhelmed as Jensen's life presented before him.

The first images were happy. 

Jensen, sharing chocolate chip cookies with his little sister, building sand castles with his dad on the beach, raking up and jumping into piles of leaves with the neighborhood kids. There were pumpkin pies baking in the oven and happy voices around a kitchen table. Young Jensen, dressing up in red choir robes getting ready to sing Christmas carols at midnight mass.

But then, the images got choppier and darker. Puzzle pieces to a larger picture of Jensen's sorrow. Some things Jared knew, most he didn't.

Peter Edwin Ackles, Beloved husband and father. Taken from us too soon.  
_I miss you every day, dad._

"You're older, Jensen, Abby needs me more than you do. Be the big brother and understand that."  
_But there's nobody to drive me to baseball practice, mom._

"He's a good man. Try to get along with him, Jensen. For me."  
_He doesn't like me._

"Did you skip class again, young man? I won't have it. Not under my roof!"  
"Try for me, Jensen, please, baby, he means well. Try for me."  
_Why can't she try for me?_

"What did you do? Don't you touch her! Don't touch me! Stay out of my classroom."  
_I can't help it. I can't help it. I can't help it._

"Why can't you be normal? Tone down whatever it is you have and try not to get kicked out of another school. Do you have any idea how unhappy you make your mother?"  
_My mother loves me the way I am. You're not my father._

Jensen crying softly in the corner of his room. The smell of cigarette smoke, frying meat and old beer bottles breaking as they were being thrown away, came with this vision.

Ignored. 

Jensen talking to his mother, pleading with her, trying to hold her hand. His mother scowling, shaking her head. 

Dismissed. 

The final impressions were all of Jensen, jumbled together: angry shouting, hurling books and ashtrays, bloody knuckles, stealing money from his step-dad's wallet, speeding cars, and failing grades. 

Running away. Returning home in shame.

Pills, rolled joints, cigarette lighters, charred spoons, white powder, hypodermic needles, back alleys and a gray, murky sky. Feeling dull and blissfully disconnected. Sinking into a deep, dark hole, but way too numb to care. 

Then something bright and sharp appeared in the darkness of Jensen's mind. A tiny window opened in the corner of the blackness. Jared peered at the bright light, trying to see what it was. There was the scent of sweet, damp hay as it lay in front of a red barn. He tasted peanut butter and jelly on his tongue and felt Pepsi bubbles tickling his nose. In the distance, the silhouette of a grain silo materialized on the horizon. A footrace was in progress with two young boys, skidding down the wet grass running neck-and-neck toward the pasture.

Jared and Jensen ran and laughed and played pranks and told jokes to one another. They shared secrets, made promises and dreamed of the future.

"Now go back to the parking garage," Jensen said softly, breaking Jared out of the trance evoked by their shared memories.

Jared stood beside Jensen at the edge of the building looking down. The Jensen in the vision took Jared's hand and placed it on his chest. He leaned into Jared, brushing Jared's unruly hair away from his eyes, kissing his forehead in a chaste, gentle manner. "This is why I didn't jump, Jay. I couldn't jump knowing you were there. Knowing you would be hurt. Knowing how much I meant to you. How much you meant to me."

"Then you knew?" Jared spoke so softly he wasn't sure Jensen heard him.

"That you cared? That you'd miss me if I died?" Jensen smiled, softly. "I've known for a long time. I'd miss you, too. I always knew you could teach me something."

"Thank God." Jared's voice shook but his manner was confident and sure. "But, are you still addicted?"

"I'm clean now, but it's a struggle. Every day is a struggle, you know, always feeling everything and everyone I touch. It's hard to keep the walls up. I'm constantly wishing that I had something to deaden my senses. Plus, they told me, Jay—they told me," Jensen caught his breath and swallowed.

"What did they tell you?" 

"The power, _my_ power, is getting stronger as I get older. That means, I'll know other people's emotions and they'll know mine, and I'll have to work every day to hide what I'm feeling when I touch someone. It's getting worse and I'm going to suffocate, Jared. I'm going to drown and never make it up to the surface. I'll be so immersed in other people's emotions that I won't be able to handle my own."

"That won't happen, I won't let it. We'll learn how to manage your talents, together. You'll never have to handle them alone, or use drugs to dull your gifts. You have me." Jared caught Jensen's eye. "You have _me_. Give _me_ all your emotions, I'll take them."

"I can't ask you to do that."

Jared ran his hands up Jensen's arms and squeezed his shoulders. "Feel this." Everything he felt, all his fear when he heard Jensen was in rehab, how much he missed him all year and looked forward to the summers with him, all the convoluted emotional, physical and spiritual love Jared had for him throughout the years. He turned it loose, filling Jensen with the honesty of his affection.

Jensen nearly doubled in half, but Jared held on tight. Jared was used to the strong feelings Jensen evoked, but Jensen was bowled over by them. A low sob came from Jensen before he said, "Nobody has ever cared this much. I never knew how it felt." 

"Now, you know. If you ever doubted me, now you know." Jared took his hands off. "You know my feelings for you. You know they're real. You know I'm staying for good, ready to always give you this," he took his hand and held it high, "when you need to touch without holding back." 

"It won't be easy."

"You're telling me. You turned my whole future around. I was planning on you being Watson to my Holmes. Now, _you_ get to be Sherlock."

Jensen chuckled, sadly. "Drug addictions win top billing I guess."

"I'll watch out for you—even when it gets worse." 

"I hope so."

"But I have one very specific stipulation." Jared let go of Jensen's hand. "One you cannot break."

"What?" he asked, softly.

"You cannot turn to drugs or easy reads when things turn ugly. You have to turn to me, now. Trust in me. I'm yours until I'm not enough for you."

Jensen brought Jared's knuckles to his lips and kissed each one. A sizzle of Jensen's energy escaped into Jared. Scared, but hopeful.

"Then I guess you're here to stay."

~~*~~*~~


	2. Part Two

~~*~~*~~

**_The Kapok Shade Detective Agency_ **

**_for Exotic Solutions_ **

**_~~*~~_ **

"Jared's at the scene now, Lieutenant, and will probably stay there until late tonight. He said there was a lot of interference on the docks with all the equipment and personnel and he couldn't get any clear messages. That happens sometimes."

Jensen shifted his rolling computer chair over to the far right of his three desktop monitors and clicked the keyboard. "When am I meeting up with the daughter?"

"Hold on a sec, Jensen."

The speakerphone hissed with the muffled precinct noises coming from Jeff's side of the connection. 

"Sorry, about that. You still there?" Jeff asked. 

"Still here, LT."

"Okay, says here that the questioning of James Beaver's daughter, Lily Holt, is on hold until the judge signs a new warrant that specifically allows you to _touch_ her during questioning."

"Even though Ms. Holt volunteered and said we didn't need one?" Jensen asked, scrolling down his screen.

"Looks like. You never know who's going to turn into a suspect, although her alibi checked out. She was out of state when her father was killed." Jeff rustled some papers. "We won't have to wait long, though. Judge Lehne has it on his desk now and is just making sure that all the i's are dotted and t's crossed." 

"Those warrants are bitches to follow since they all have such strict and separate conditions," Jensen sighed. "Like: _The Touch_ may last no longer than five minutes unless an active link failed to be established within the first fifteen seconds of first contact or had been lost for thirty seconds—or whatever the court had deemed prior, as a 'significant amount of time'—after the first minute of a fully established link…yadda, yadda."

"The wheels of justice, Jensen. They turn at their own speed, but at least they're turning. You know I'll be there, along with the deputy DA, making sure the questioning goes off without a hitch."

"I know," he said, wistfully. "But how 'bout next time you send a rich banker with a lost dog over to the Kapok Shade instead of a murdered union organizer." 

"Murder pays the bills with both cops _and_ private investigators."

Two more messages from other clients appeared on the email monitors. Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off a brewing headache. "What a way to make a living," he said, shaking his head.

"If I had a nickel for every time my wife said that," Jeff chuckled through the speaker. 

"That would certainly supplement the income," Jensen joked.

Jeff became serious. "Hey, don't forget that you and Jared are the good guys and you do good work. You do great work."

"Thanks and back at'cha, Lieutenant Morgan." 

"Keep your phone on, I'll be calling as soon as the legal paperwork's signed. Morgan out."

Jensen laughed in spite of his throbbing temples. Who ended phone calls with _Morgan out_? 

Jeff's call had barely ended when Jared's name appeared on his phone.

"How's it going, Jay?"

"Let the voice mail handle the calls, take some extra strength Tylenol and lie down for a couple of hours." 

"Can't, a warrant's about to be signed, allowing me to read the vic's daughter. Plus two new clients have gotten back to us with authorized agency contracts."

"You can kick back for a couple of hours because I'm sending in the cavalry. Osric got back early and is on his way in to take care of the phones, get the paperwork cleared, and set up schedules."

"Oh, sweet," Jensen moaned, thankfully. "Finally, a way for _me_ to get something from his eidetic memory. Like a nap."

"Go, I think Chau'll be there in twenty. And the Tylenol's in the cabinet on the third shelf in the back bathroom."

"You always know what to say to a guy," Jensen said, sweetly. 

"That's because I always know what he's going to ask," Jared replied just as amiably. "Seriously, Jense, take a few minutes now while the Tylenol will still work."

"I will, but I'll wait until our office manager gets here first." 

Jared was right. There was a relatively small window of time that Tylenol would work on one of his headaches, and since Jensen wouldn't take anything stronger he had to nip that bitch in the bud.

"And drink a gallon of water."

"Yes, dear." Jensen went to the back bathroom and got the pill bottle, right where Jared said it would be. "Are you going to be home for dinner tonight or are you camping out at the scene?"

Sometimes, Jared would literally camp out at the crime scene if he thought he could get any information through the veil, especially if he was having difficulty getting someone to talk to him—dead or alive. 

"Haven't decided yet. I'm getting a lot of mixed messages and a hell of a lot of static. I sure could use one of your light touches right now."

"You should come home." Jensen popped the pills and then sipped from the bottled water he'd pulled from the mini fridge. "I think a nice, deep touch would do us both good." 

To an uninformed eavesdropper, that might have sounded like a deeply sexual innuendo. But, to the two partners who made up the Kapok Shade Detective Agency, it was a practical suggestion for the powerful empath to soothe the clairvoyant's mind of excess negative energy and useless information—which was what Jared called "static."

Jensen, for his part, would be able to release his pent up emotional stress safely. It was true that empaths needed to touch and be touched as part of their nature and it was even more important for Jensen. The years that he had fought to keep his emotions from accidently leaking out had been hard on him, but he had Jared now. Jared was his safety valve. A deep touch performed in a considerate, mutual environment, helped Jensen avoid emotional meltdowns, powerful bleed-throughs and painful headaches. 

Fortunately, Jared was a careful, considerate toucher. 

"That sounds good," Jared said. "I think I will, but it'll be late. Think you could wait up and have dinner with me?"

"As long as you don't want anything fancier than pizza." Jensen rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, accentuating the light show going on behind his lids.

"Jen." Jared's voice was soft. "I'm not an empath, but when you’re hurting, I hurt. Go lie down and let the hired help sort out the office."

"I don't think Chau would appreciate being called the _hired help_." Jensen joked, blinking his eyes open.

"Please don't let it slip that I said that, then," Jared said, cheerfully. "I'll bring home dinner around nine and we can touch each other for the rest of the night."

"You make it sound so dirty."

"That's what I was going for." Jared's voice smiled. "Because after we finish touching, I'd like us to fuck."

"That's more like it." Jensen laughed, weakly.

"I can come back now if you need me to. The spirits can always wait." Jared's soft voice was laced with concern.

"No, I'll be all right. If it gets bad, I'll let you know. Besides I think I hear Osric, now. Must've been closer than you thought."

The front door to the office opened and closed.

"Jensen?" Osric's voice was just above a whisper. 

"Back here," Jensen called out before wincing at the volume of his own voice.

"He's there, now?" Jared asked. 

"Yeah, it's all good. See you tonight, Jay. Bring something delicious."

"Call me if you need me."

"I will. Be safe."

"Love you, too, babe. See you tonight." Jared ended the call.

Jensen looked up from the edge of the couch he realized he was sitting on. 

Osric crept in on tip toes, murmuring softly, "I'm here."

It was relatively easy for Osric to remain up on tip toes as he was wearing his four-inch silver stiletto heels over black fishnet stockings. The tight, leather miniskirt showed off his great legs beautifully. The purple halter top was a bit much, though, since it was still March.

"Aren't you cold?" Jensen asked. 

"Aren't you hot?" Chau replied with a toss of her blonde wig. "Why, yes. Yes, you are."

When Osric was _en femme_ , and in leather, she went by Chau. When she wore lace, she was Miss Chu hua. 

_"Chau is a girl's name and means pearls or precious stones in Vietnamese,"_ she had explained. _"Chau can be pronounced sorta like Chu hua which is a Chinese name meaning "Chrysanthemum." I get a two-fer. How awesome is that?"_

"You only think I'm hot when you're wearing heels." Jensen snickered, and then grimaced.

"You're always hot, even in my flats. Unfortunately, you're not my type. Hey, Jen," Chau lowered her voice. "Jared told me to make sure you drink lots of water before making you nap for a couple of hours."

"Yeah, he told me that, too." He pointed to his empty water bottle.

"Well, here's two more." She pulled the water bottles from her colorful backpack. "Drink these, then doze off. I’ll go up front to see if I can make sense of your emails and phone messages." 

"Thanks." Jensen twisted the top off one of the bottles and took a hefty swallow. "By the way, you look gorgeous." Jensen tipped his chin to Chau's skirt and stockings.

"Thanks, boss," she smiled. "Nothing like being a martial arts champion for making a girl's legs look sleek in her Jimmy Choos."

"Apparently not," Jensen agreed, capping his bottle and lying down on his side.

The throbbing ratcheted up several notches, but after an undetermined amount of time it finally throttled back and he was able to nap. When he woke, the migraine had leveled off at a manageable dull ache and Jensen wobbled to a stand. He reached for his sunglasses, drank another bottle of water, hit the bathroom, and then made his way to his desk, which was remarkably clear of debris.

Chau was on the phone fielding questions from a potential client.

"Because a Kapok tree is an exotic tree and the bosses thought it would make a catchy name. What's your contact information? Start with phone numbers."

She scribbled a few notes.

"No, ma'am, The Kapok Shade Detective Agency does not work on the commission after finding your grandfather's lost treasure. By the way, what kind of treasure are we talking about, here?" Chau saw Jensen standing in the doorway and returned to the call. "I mean, no. No matter what kind of treasure you're talking about, The Kapok Shade does not work on commission but we do have a sliding fee scale." 

She toyed with the blonde strands at the nape of her neck and listened. "You pay them to find it, and if they do, all the treasure will be yours. You have to pay the agency _first_ for their time and expertise. I can set up an appointment for you to talk to one of our agents."

Jensen waved his hands and shook his head, mouthing, "No, no, no."

"Next Thursday afternoon, one week from today, with Mr. Ackles at three-thirty would be fine. Do you know how to get here?" She nodded while clicking on the calendar. "Hope to see you then, Mrs. Ferdinand."

"Why, Chau, why?" Jensen sat heavily.

"Don't sweat it. You and Jared have an appointment together at one o'clock that afternoon, so you'll already be here. You might even be able to go home early if the Ferdinand thing is a bust."

"Why an appointment with both of us? It's not one of our moms, is it?" Jensen pulled his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes. 

"No, although you do have your mother penciled in for next month—the week-end of the seventeenth." Chau displayed her calendar. "However, next Thursday, Samantha Ferris requested a private meeting with both you and Jay, and said," Chau lowered her voice an octave, "It is imperative that I meet with both the clairvoyant _and_ the empath." 

"Should I know Samantha Ferris?"

"Probably not. I had to look her up. She's the wife of the late Nathan Ferris of Pellegrino and Ferris Pharmaceuticals. We know them as _P & F PharmCare_. I figured whatever she wanted, she had the capital to back it up."

"She didn't tell you what it was about?"

"Nope. Just that she wanted both of you at the same time before she signed on the dotted line."

Chau handed Jensen several sets of papers. "Here's Samantha's bio, her dead husband's bio, information on their daughter, Alona Penikett, and _her_ husband, Tahmoh Penikett, the history of the main company and…" Chau handed him another stack of printouts, "…some information on the partner, Mark Pellegrino, his history and his family and how he got the company started."

"This is a lot of information. How long ago did she call?" Jensen said, lightly perusing the papers.

"About an hour and a half. You've been napping for a couple of hours. Are you feeling better?"

Jensen blinked, looked around, and took stock of himself. "Yeah, much better. Thanks. And thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"Not short notice. Jared called yesterday morning and asked if I could switch my days around and come in this afternoon. He knew I got home early. It was…it was like he's _psychic_ or something." Chau made an exaggerated, wide-eyed expression. 

"I hope he knows I'm in the mood for dinner from the Cantonese Cuisine tonight." Jensen sat at his desk to begin reading up on Mrs. Ferris.

"He's good, but not that good. I'll let him know." 

"Beauty and brains. I guess we'll keep you." Jensen put his feet up on his desk and perused the papers in front of him.

"You'd be fools not to. After all, I have every piece of personal and professional information committed to memory." She tapped her temple with a well-manicured fingernail.

"Then, surely you remember how I take my coffee?" Jensen asked, innocently.

Chau stood and sneered. "Only because I know that a caffeine hit helps after your headaches, but don't expect this kind of service on a regular basis." She stomped over to the coffee maker and prepared a pot.

"I won't." And Jensen wouldn't, because he never forgot that there was a martial artist with a sixth degree black belt wearing those Jimmy Choos.

~~*~~*~~

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Jared put the bags from the Cantonese Cuisine on the dining room table.

"Not so bad. Thanks for arranging for office help." 

Jared watched Jensen rub his eyes as he sat up from napping on the couch. It was nine forty-five and even though it was late to be having dinner, they had become well versed in eating at weird times. 

'The spirits wait for no man—or his dinner.' Jensen once said as a way of forgiving Jared for his spur of the moment run-off-into-the-middle-of-the-night calls.

Jared smiled as he took the white boxes out of the bags and tabbed them open. 

"I got your favorites—spare ribs soup with watercress and apricot kernels."

A slow smile spread across Jensen's face, and he licked his lips. "Mmm. Did you get the steamed scallops with ginger and garlic?"

"Did you think I'd forget?" Jared kidded. He kept his voice low in case Jensen had any residual headache pain. "And to be on the safe side, I bought Jook-sing noodles and Beef Chow Fun because Beef Chow…"

"...is always fun," Jensen finished. "Thanks, Jay, this is great."

"You're welcome. Sorry I'm late. How's the headache?"

"Better." Jensen wrapped his hands around Jared's forearms and breathed in deep. Jared felt the mild zing that tingled under his skin when Jensen went for a light touch.

"Don't hold back, babe," Jared whispered. "Gimme all you got."

Jensen closed his eyes. He slid his hands under Jared's shirt, pressing his warm hands above Jared's heart. 

Jared felt Jensen breathe in deep and let it out. Jensen kept a tight rein on his anxieties until he touched Jared, only then did he feel safe to let them lose After his second breath, a charge of emotion-laden energy flooded Jared's body and settled deep in his bones. Stress as hot as gunpowder crackled under his skin and sizzled around his muscles. Several seconds after Jensen's touch vibrated through him, the tension popped like an old-time flashbulb, and a light feeling, washed through him. Something akin to cut grass and summer rain, swept his spirits up and away.

After another deep breath Jensen looked up through his lashes and smiled. 

"All better now."

Jared leaned in for a kiss and then another. "I'm glad."

"Thank you," Jensen said, kissing into Jared's lips. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Any time." 

Jensen ran his palms across the skin of Jared's chest up along his ribs and around his back. "And now, this one's for you." 

Empathic vibrations juddered gently through him, finding and sharing the areas of tension and easing each point of stress, like a massage of mind and body. Jared relaxed as the stiffness held deep in his aura let loose and melted like butter on a hot knife. It was as if Jensen sucked all the bad energy and negative thoughts out of his body leaving him loose-limbed and stupid.

With the first touch, Jensen released his emotions and took calm from Jared. With the second Jensen returned the calm to Jared. They were made for each other.

They both groaned in contentment as Jared sank gratefully into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace carrying Jensen down with him.

Jensen smiled a knowing grin. He scooted up until he was sitting in Jared's lap, leaning down for a deep, dirty kiss. 

The next touches were between the both of them and they had everything and nothing to do with relieving stress.

~~*~~*~~

After some time playing on the overstuffed chair, Jensen sat up and said that he was hungry. Jared set the kitchen table with plates and bowls, chopsticks and tea cups, while Jensen started up a pot of oolong tea.

"So, how did it go at the docks?" Jensen asked. "Did you speak to any friendly souls?"

"Sorry to say there was still a lot of interference and nonsense babble, so I didn't get anything we could use. It looks like you're going to have to interrogate the daughter and, if they can get a warrant, the ex-wife. I don't think either one of them knows anything, but they might know somebody who knows somebody that we don't know about yet."

Jared came up to Jensen, hugging him from behind. "I hate when I can't touch you for days."

Jensen turned in the circle of Jared's arms. "You know that goes triple for me." 

Their kissing started up again as chaste little nips and licks, but progressed into another full-tilt breath-stealing, tongue-sucking, mouth-watering make-out session.

When Jensen came up for air, he said, "You'd think we were still teenagers."

"Except when we were teenagers, I didn't get a chance to do this." Jared dipped Jensen backwards as he kissed him. He ran his hand down the front of Jensen's pajama pants, cupping his cock and squeezing gently.

Jensen groaned into the kiss and pulled himself to stand. "I never knew what a turn-on it was to be groped in my own kitchen with the aroma of crabmeat wontons and Jook-sing noodles in the air."

"Because Jook-sing noodles," Jared said, trailing kisses up to Jensen's lips, "are always fun."

Jensen groaned again.

Jared smacked a wet, slurping kiss across Jensen's forehead and then licked his cheek.

"Get off me, you mangy mutt," Jensen laughed. 

_Such a great sound_ , Jared thought. _Jensen's laugh is the best there is._

They scooped out portions onto their plates and sat back to eat. Jared popped open a beer while Jensen opted for the tea. 

"So, was Osric able to get the schedule in order?"

Jensen nodded. "Chau arrived a few minutes after you called. Did she tell you about the appointment we have next Thursday at the office?"

"I got a text, what's that all about?" Jared asked, while carefully pouring soup into two bowls.

"I guess we'll see soon enough. We're getting busy. I hope we'll still be able to make it out to Trinidad and Tobago for those couple of weeks in June." 

"More Kapok Shade business means longer stays in five star hotels, my love." Jared raised his beer bottle and Jensen tapped it with his tea cup. 

Jensen ate slowly and carefully, starting with the soup and nibbling on some noodles. Jared recognized the gesture and understood that Jensen was still not one hundred percent so he said, "I'd like to make good on my earlier offer to fuck you all night long, but I'm afraid I'm too tired to perform properly."

"What?"

"I'm tired and I don't have the stamina you require to be fully satisfied, my little sex kitten, especially with the early morning rendezvous I'm hoping to have with a ghost. Plus, there's your interview with the daughter. However, I'd like to offer you a rain check."

Jensen put down his chopsticks and took Jared's hands into his. He held tight, causing Jared's body to thrum with energy.

"I know you're a big, fat, liar, but I also know you lie because you love me." Jensen gave Jared's hands a quick squeeze. "Yes, rain check. Yes, bed. Yes, I love you, too. And yes, you clean up."

Jensen shuffled off to bed leaving the left-overs to Jared's discretion. 

Jared smiled thinking about their upcoming Caribbean vacation, and the mess he was planning on making of _their_ five star hotel room.

He was definitely going to make Jensen clean that up.

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

The warrant allowing Jensen to question the murdered Jim Beaver's daughter came through early the next morning, as expected. It was Friday, right before noon, when Jensen and Jeff Morgan stood on the sidewalk in front of Lily Holt's brownstone in the lower end of the city, five blocks from the city dock.

Jensen preferred to perform readings in a person's home rather than the precinct, and since she wasn't a suspect, all involved agreed to meet at her place. 

"D.J.'s on the way, we might as well go in." Morgan rang the doorbell and got out his identification.

Lily Holt was a tall, slender woman, dressed all in white. The hem of her sleeveless dress fluttered around her ankles, and her long, blonde hair, ironed straight, fell past her waist. Her high cheekbones and expressive blue eyes made her look more like nineteen than her actual age of thirty-four. Her husband, Barry Holt, was in the National Guard and away for annual training. Lily had driven him there, and they were both on the road the night her father was murdered. Two hotel receipts and an entire unit of National Guard soldiers verified their alibis. 

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, after examining Morgan's badge.

"We've spoken on the phone," he half-turned to Jensen, "but this the first time we've met face-to-face. This is Jensen Ackles, the empathic investigator from the Kapok Shade Detective Agency. The deputy District Attorney is on his way and he…"

"Is here! Hi, D.J. Qualls from the DA's office." A tall, lanky man came through the doorway, smiling. "We _have_ met before, Mrs. Holt. As I explained, I'm here to make sure everything goes by the book. I'll be recording the interview so that there's no misunderstanding of what transpires here today." He shrugged. "Keeps things on the up and up. Do you understand the procedures and the reasons for them? Hey, hi, Lieutenant. Morning, Mr. Ackles."

"Yes, you filled me in on everything, but can I see what you're going to use to record with?"

"Of course."

Lily led the three men into her country kitchen. A platter of pastries and a pot of coffee were in the center of the table. The deputy DA pulled out her chair, and then sat next to her, reviewing all of his recording paraphernalia and the specifications of the warrant. 

Lt. Morgan filled his coffee cup. "Mrs. Holt, it's important that I take you through the facts of the crime as we know them before Mr. Ackles proceeds to question you. I don't want to upset you, but we all need to start on a level playing field."

"I understand," she said. Her wide eyes taking up her whole face as she scrutinized the men sitting at her kitchen table. "I'll do whatever I can to help catch my father's killer."

Jeff nodded to D.J. who stood, shouldered his video camera, pointed it at Morgan and said, "Now."

Jeff began, "Today is Friday, March the fifteenth, two thousand fifteen, it is twelve twenty in the afternoon. Present are, myself: Lieutenant Jeffrey Morgan, Twenty-third Precinct, the Assistant District Attorney for Westminster County, D. J. Qualls and Jensen Ackles, Empathic Investigator from the Kapok Shade Detective Agency. We are serving a lawfully obtained warrant to question Lily Marie Holt regarding the death of her father, James Norman Beaver.

"On Friday the twenty-eighth of February of this year, at approximately eleven thirty p.m., an anonymous telephone call came in to the Twenty-third Precinct requesting assistance for what appeared to be a shooting in progress at the Metro City docks. The caller did not identify herself, but was later determined to be a female.

"When the officers responded, they located an unresponsive elderly male lying face-up on the sidewalk with apparent gunshot wounds to his upper torso and abdomen. Officers called emergency services and attempted CPR, but the victim was pronounced dead at the scene. The victim was later identified as James Norman Beaver, aged seventy-two. We have no known witnesses or motives, and we do not have the weapon. However, the medical examiner recovered two bullets, each one a .357, most probably from a Glock 31. Both bullets were determined to have been fired from the same gun. The police are asking for help from the community as well as friends and family of the deceased." Jeff tilted his head towards Jensen. "We're even looking into unconventional means to solve this murder."

Jeff addressed Lily. "Mrs. Holt, it was reported that your father was planning to stage a peaceful rally to be attended by members of the dockworkers union after the state government began considering statutes that would limit the union's bargaining rights. Other than that, your father was a largely uncontroversial figure."

Lily's eyes were dimmed with tears, one trailing down her right cheek. "Did you know that my father owns a Glock 31, as well as a Sig Sauer and a couple of hunting rifles?"

"We did."

"My husband also collects handguns and semiautomatic firearms."

"We know that, too," Jeff said, gently. "He's not a suspect."

"Okay." She sniffed and looked far away for a moment. 

"My father, he was a good guy. He was a great guy, never sick a day in his life. I can't believe he's dead." She wiped under her eyes, trying to catch the tears before they fell. "He was just an old man trying one last time to be the union organizer he was back in the day." 

"We're so sorry for your loss," D.J. said, handing her a tissue.

She nodded her thanks.

"Mrs. Holt," Jeff said. "The reason we’re here today is because you may have some subconscious information about the people surrounding this crime. Mr. Ackles is a registered exotic private investigator and empath from the Kapok Shade Detective Agency, and may be able to help you uncover it." 

Jeff spoke to the camera. "Mrs. Lily Holt, we are here to execute a warrant for you to be _Read_ by Detective Jensen Ackles, license number #PI 8389-E1379. The warrant was written to protect your rights and privacy during the possible disclosure of information from your subconscious and/or unconscious mind. Anything discovered here will not be used against you or any individual or entity, professional or otherwise, in a court of law, but, should new information pertaining to this crime be obtained through this _Reading_ , further investigations may occur. Again, we are here to gather information pertaining to this case only." 

He turned to Jensen. "Mr. Ackles?"

Jensen stood and approached Lily. She was trembling and biting her bottom lip with the tips of her teeth.

"Before we start, do you have any questions for me?" Jensen sat down next to her at the table.

"Will…will it hurt?" she asked.

He smiled and shook his head. "This reading won't hurt you, but it will bring to the surface the thoughts, accusations and emotions that you have buried underneath the grief of losing your father. And that's okay, because that's what we're hoping will happen." He leaned in close and took her hand. "Lily, we're not here to judge you, I promise. You are in a safe place." Giving her hand a gentle _touch_ , Jensen sent a sense of calm through her. 

She relaxed and breathed, "Did you do that?"

"Sort of. It's more that I helped you do that."

"Did you read anything just now?"

"No, that was a small touch from me to you, letting you feel what I was feeling, and to show that I'm not going to hurt you." Jensen touched her again with a little more emotion. He'd found that if he started small, allowing the subject to feel what his touch is like, it was easier for them to open up and accept it. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes, yes I do. It feels—nice."

"All I want you to do is relax, and let me feel what you feel; let me know what you imagined happened, who you think might be involved, and how you are affected by the situation. Don't try to interpret or withhold anything that comes to your mind because that's how we find clues. I assure you, we aren't looking for secrets. You are not a suspect."

"I offered to help," she said, confidently.

"You did, and you are." 

Jensen shifted so he was fully facing her. "In a moment, I'll run the palms of my hands up your arms and clasp lightly onto your shoulders. That's why we asked you to wear something sleeveless. You will feel that same energy tingle under your skin, but it won't get stronger and it won't hurt. I'll bow my head when I'm fully in touch with you, and that will give Lieutenant Morgan the signal to start timing. The reading will last for five minutes."

"Is five minutes enough time?"

"It's usually more than enough. Our thoughts travel quickly and I'm pretty good at catching the ones we need." He smiled and stroked her arm, conveying comfort and reassurance before continuing. "When five minutes are up, the lieutenant will touch the back of my neck, I'll withdraw my touch, remove my hands and it'll be over. Mr. Qualls will be recording the whole time."

"Will I know what's going on?"

"Oh, yes. You'll be fully awake and aware, and you'll hear everything, but please don't say a word, okay? I will be speaking directly from your mind, using your words, and it will no doubt be sad for you to hear. If it becomes too distressing, we'll end the session right away." 

Jensen waited several seconds before he asked. "Do you have any more questions?"

Lily paused, looking unsure. "What about you? Will you be okay?"

Jensen blinked. "You're one of the very few who have ever asked that, Lily. Thank you. Yes, I'll be fine, or at least as fine as you are. So, are you ready?"

"Yes. I'm ready.

Jensen looked at D.J., then at Jeff who updated the timestamp.

Jensen opened his hands and moved his palms up Lily's bare arms, leaving a trail of glittering energy in their wake. He held on to her shoulders, lowered his head, and closed his eyes.

He entered Lily's world, one layer at a time. He flinched and picked up his left foot. "You hurt your ankle. It feels like yesterday? I didn't notice you limping, but it hurts like a bitc…like crazy today."

He felt her take a breath as though she was going to reply, but she stayed silent. 

Jensen remained on the physical level for a few seconds, taking in how she was hungry but grief made it difficult to eat. She was tired but couldn't sleep. She missed her husband, wishing he were here to help her through this. He quickly weeded through her sensations one at a time. She was scared; she was heartbroken at being an orphan. She was angry and she was…suspicious. 

Bingo.

Jensen lifted his hand from Lily's shoulder and touched the back of his own neck before bowing his head.

Jeff's voice sounded distorted. "The _Touch_ has been established. The time is twelve twenty-nine and thirty-seven seconds p.m."

"I loved my father." Jensen's heart clenched as it always did when spoke another's thoughts aloud. Sorrow always came through first. "Why was he killed, he wasn't a threat?" Jensen shook it off and dug deeper. 

_Relax, Lily. I'm just taking a peek._

Jensen felt Lily build her resolve, and he sensed a change in direction. "Mr. Williams was my father's union friend." His voice got louder. "Steven Williams. He was angry that my dad didn't try harder to keep the men fired up. My father and Mr. Steve had been big, successful union organizers. Every dock worker up and down the coast knew "Good Ol' Jim" and "Fightin' Steve." But dad grew old and Steve grew old with him. Steven never wanted them to give up the good fight, but, in the end, they'd become anachronisms. Just two old men trying to relive the glory days when unions were king." 

Jensen knew she was trying, but there was nothing here. Lily's mind was a knot of questions and turmoil. Jensen concentrated, trying to separate out the threads and find something useful. 

_You're doing fine, Lily._

But she was overwrought, and Jensen felt like he was losing his touch. Her thoughts came barrelling through.

"Didn't anybody who lived near the docks see anything?"  
"There must have been shouting."  
"Why didn't someone call the police sooner?"  
"Did he suffer?"

No. No. No. He had to get a hold of this or he'd be putting her through all this for nothing.

"Two and a half more minutes, Jensen." Jeff's voice sounded through the fog.

Time was running out. There was no way around it, so he dove in and went straight for the heart.

"Oh, no…" First one, then two tears ran down his cheek. He doubled over and his breath hitched. Grief like a freight train ran him down. Grief and white-hot anger. "He's dead. They killed him. Oh, God. Oh, dad. My father, my dad."

Through the tears, he said, "I'm sorry they murdered you, dad. I'm so sorry." 

In the background, he heard Lily sob low in her chest.

Jeff's hand was on his shoulder, but Jensen shook his head. New tears fell down his cheeks and, he imagined, Lily's cheeks, too. Jensen worked hard to pull it together, focusing on the burning anger rather than the overwhelming sadness.

_You're safe, Lily. Let me feel it. Let me know it._

"I hate her. God, I _hate_ her. Mom died. Years later, he re-married. He married _her_. Ellie. He married Ellie and she took over his brownstone and his checkbook. She never liked me, either. I knew she didn't love dad like he deserved, but I didn't think she wanted him dead."

Jensen backed away from the sheer emotion to try and examine the details. It was deeper than the jealousy a grieving daughter had for her ex-stepmother.

_Tell me._

"Years ago, before I married Barry, she told me to move out. I'd known that it was way past time, and I had planned to, even though I'd grown up in that house. My mother left me some money and I knew I'd be okay."

"One minute, thirty-six seconds, Jensen."

_Keep going, you're doing great, Lily._

"Dad said she tried to write me out of everything but he wouldn't let her. I would always be his little girl. That's one of the reasons he divorced her. Dad was financially and socially comfortable, and she wanted everything." 

Fresh tears coursed down his face, but Jensen ignored them.

"And she did. I think she signed her name to everything he owned without him realizing it."

Lily's emotions were overwhelming. 

"Ten seconds, Jensen. Pull back."

He withdrew through the horror of the murder and the suspicion of the other woman, tripping head-first into the memories little Lily had of her father having a tea party with sparkly party hats and drinking imaginary tea—eating chocolate dipped vanilla cones at Dairy Queen—watching Disney's The Great Mouse Detective, fingers covered in popcorn salt and butter.

Jensen felt his heart break as the sobs came in great, breathless heaves. His stomach hurt, his head pounded and the tears wouldn't stop. He knew these emotions were Lily's but he felt them sharp and clear and his soul ached.

Then, a warm, familiar hand cupped the back of his neck. 

"It's over now, Jense. It's over." 

Jensen sniffed and held his head between his hands. 

Wait a minute.

That didn't feel like Jeff's hand or sound like Jeff's voice.

"Jensen, time to come back. We got what we needed."

"Jay?" Jensen blinked hard and got his breathing under control. 

"Yeah, it's me, love."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was down the street at the docks." Jared carded his fingers through Jensen's hair and he spoke in a quiet, careful tone. "I heard the last two minutes of your reading."

Jensen shook his head to clear it and then looked around. "Lily?"

From his right, he heard her whimper. "Are you okay, Mrs. Holt? That was pretty intense. I'm sorry."

Lily's voice was harsh and wet. "It's not like I haven't felt it all before."

Jensen leaned into Jared's hand. Jared's fingers rubbed soothing circles into Jensen's scalp. As Jensen got older, these strong emotions hit him harder and it took longer to separate from them. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut to center himself.

"Did you find out anything?" he wheezed.

"I did," Jared hummed softly. "Between you and me and Lily, we have a lead. I spoke to an old stevedore who's roamed the docks for the past two hundred years. Said his name was Hiram Smallwood." Jared smiled, "He said to call him Hy. He told me what he heard and saw." 

At this point they both seemed to have forgotten that there was a police lieutenant, a grieving daughter and a deputy DA—with rolling video—in the same room with them. 

Jared ran his hand through Jensen's spiky hair one last time before turning to Lily. "Mrs. Holt, I'm Jared Padalecki, Jensen's partner from the Kapok Shade Agency, also working on the investigation into your father's murder. May I ask you a couple of questions? It won't take long."

She looked at Jeff.

"Jared's been working on this investigation along with us," Jeff explained. 

"Ask your questions," she said, wearily.

"All I need is a yes or no." Jared looked at Jensen who felt sucked dry and ready to drop. "You okay, Jen?" Jared asked.

"I'm good. Go on."

Jared asked, "Do you know anyone who may have had a grudge or ill feelings against either you or your father?"

Lily's eyes opened wide. "Against me?"

Jared repeated, "Anyone who may have had any resentment toward either you or your dad?"

Lily shuddered when she nodded yes.

"Mrs. Holt, would you answer out loud, so I can get it on tape, please?" D.J. asked. 

"Uh…yeah, yes."

"Would anyone have any financial gain now that your father is dead?" Jared looked at her intently. 

"Yes."

"Would anyone have any financial gain if _you_ were dead?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Jared touched her arm. "I'm sorry, I know this is difficult, but you're helping us so much."

"I'm okay, but, please hurry?"

"My source told me that there was a loud argument on the night your father was killed. Did he ever have shouting matches with any of his acquaintances?"

Lily frowned and said, "Only one that I know of…I mean…yes."

"Did your father call anyone a name that sounds like _Lion_?"

Lily's eyes filled with rage. She mumbled a low,"Yes."

Jensen reached out and held her hand. He sent quiet comfort through her fingertips while getting bombarded with her shock and anger.

Jensen composed himself. When his sight came into focus, he saw Jared, watching him intently. Jared ran his fingertips along Jensen's forearm and Jensen let him. He took a quick touch from Jared. They glanced silently at one another and said as one, 

"It's the ex."

~~*~~*~~

"Evidence" obtained through empathy or ghost whispering or any exotic talent is never admissible in court. The Kapok Shade's job, as far as law enforcement was concerned, was to find possible suspects. Police detectives would evaluate the paranormal information and investigate if the information fit in with the crime and appeared plausible. If the cops knew who they were looking for and how the crime was committed, damning evidence would almost surely be found, because humans had the habit of messing up when committing crimes.

If the police were lucky and the perpetrator was barely holding it together, the use of an intimate narrative of the crime, provided by an "eye witness" could compel a full confession. 

In Eliana Beaver's case, pretty much all Lieutenant Morgan had to do was to say that a reliable witness came forth (Hiram) and reported to one of their investigators (Jared) that she and her husband had been observed having an all-out shouting match on the docks on the evening of February twenty-eighth. 

According to Hy, Eliana said, "You'll never prove that I forged your signature, and neither you nor your daughter will be able to take me to court," right before drawing a firearm from her green leather pocketbook and firing four shots. 

Lieutenant Morgan explained that the witness saw the first two shots go wild, but the second two shots found their target. Two bullets from a Glock were recovered from the splintered dock and two were recovered from Jim Beaver's body.

"Eliana Beaver, Jim Beaver's _SheLion_ , folded like a cheap umbrella," Jared said, hanging up the phone. "Jeff expresses his apologies for calling on a Sunday evening, sends his thanks for our work in solving the case, and gives his assurance that there's a check in the mail to the Kapok Shade Exotic Detective Agency from Metro City's Finest." 

"Cheap umbrella?" Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone can fold like a cheap suit. I thought I'd give her a little distinction." Jared grinned, briefly. "She caused a whole lot of hurt." 

"I know. I don't know why Lily Holt's reading got me so emotionally riled up," Jensen said. He swirled a glass of Fre Merlot and held it to the light before sniffing and sipping. Not bad for alcohol-free. "I've certainly been in the middle of far more gut-wrenching situations than that, but that one threw me for a loop." He sipped again.

"You and I never know how we're going to react to a case because every circumstance is different," Jared said, as he twirled the spaghetti with his fork. "I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle." 

Jensen nodded. "You're probably right."

But Jared _wasn't_ sure how Jensen could keep handling cases if his emotional reactions got stronger, and his emotional barriers got weaker. Jared's emotions were an open book to Jensen, but Jared kept his psychic barricade up at all times. However, it was all he could do, sometimes, not to peek into the future to see how Jensen would manage his evolving empathic powers.

"Stop thinking over there, I said you're probably right." 

He was beginning to worry Jensen, so Jared quirked a smile and thrummed his fingers against the tabletop in a quick rhythm, bopping his head up and down. He began humming as he picked up a serving spoon and held it like a microphone. 

"Friday night I crashed your party, Saturday I said I'm sorry, Sunday came and trashed me out again."

Jensen dropped his head, but his voice smiled when he said, "Okay. Here we go."

Jared sang louder. "I was only having fun, wasn't hurting anyone, and we all enjoyed the week end for a chaaange." He jumped out of his chair, belting out Billy Joel's lyrics into the microphonespoon.

"You may be right! I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for." He pointed to Jensen who was laughing openly.

"Turn out the light! Don't try to save me. You may be wrong for all I know you may be right." Jared shimmied in front of Jensen. "You may be wrong but you may be right. You may be wrong but you may be right."

"Good Lord, Jared." Jensen wiped his eyes and stuttered out in between giggles. "That's so bad it's wonderful."

Jared ended the number by singing, "And you wouldn't want me any other waaaay."

Jensen looked to the heavens. "You _are_ a lunatic."

Jared pulled his chair up to the table, put down his microphone and sat. "You may be right," he said.

"Now that _that_ musical interlude is over." Jensen chuckled as he tore off a piece of crusty, warm, Italian bread and dipped it into the seasoned olive oil before taking a bite. "Man, I love that you can cook."

Jared feigned disappointment. "Is that all you love about me?"

"I don't know. How's your stamina tonight? I could love that, too." Jensen licked the spaghetti sauce from the corner of his mouth. "As long as no singing is involved."

"No promises." Jared finished off the last of his real wine, placed his fork at the edge of his plate, and stood. He yawned, stretched his arms out to the side dramatically and announced, "Well, I'm ready for bed."

Jensen looked up, quizzically. "But it's only seven-twenty." 

"Yep. A whole twelve hours and ten minutes before we have to get out of bed again." 

Jensen smirked. "That's pretty big talk."

"I'm a pretty big guy." Jared nudged Jensen's shoulder and made a mad dash to their upstairs bedroom. He heard a kitchen chair crash to the floor and Jensen yell as he gained speed, "Oh, it is so _on!_ "

~~*~~*~~

**_Next Thursday Afternoon_ **

**_~~*~~*~~_ **

Jared's office was one floor above Jensen's, and on the opposite side of the building. Usually, they worked different cases and had found that their energies could concentrate better on their clients if they had some space between them. Plus, Jensen had to be able to walk outside when he needed to clear his fields. That seemed to be happening more and more often.

Today's meeting with Mrs. Ferris would be in Jared's office overlooking the barren courtyard from two stories up. It was early spring. No flowers were blooming yet, and there was still a nip in the air. 

Jensen flipped through the information Chau had amassed for him and gave Jared the essentials:

"Okay, so, I've been through Samantha Ferris's history, and here are the high points. Husband, Nathan Ferris, merged his small but up-and-coming pharmaceutical company, Sarris HealthCare, with Mark Pellegrino's fledgling, but well-funded, company, Pharm Call, twelve years ago and they became the highly profitable P & F PharmCare Corp, LLC. Nathan died three and a half years ago leaving his wife with the controlling shares of the company. 

"Up until then, she was in the background as the CEO's wife. She attended charity luncheons, political functions, fund raisers, etcetera, on her husband's arm and all she'd contributed to the company was her name and face." Jensen held up her picture for Jared to see. "She's a beautiful woman."

Jared was pacing, as he often did when receiving information, but stopped and glanced at her photo. "But now?"

"Now, she's the very capable, very savvy Chief Financial Officer of this huge, successful, multinational conglomerate and sits on the board of directors. Apparently, all this time, she was more than just a pretty face."

"How is Pellegrino with all this?"

"When Nathan died, Pellegrino became the sole CEO of the company. Pellegrino and Nate Ferris were co-executive officers of P & F PharmCare and both sat on the board of directors. Pellegrino's status hasn't changed, except that his title is exclusive now. Technically, Sam Ferris reports to Mark Pellegrino, but she _is_ the major shareholder. However, from what Chau gathered, they run the corporation together amicably."

Jared paced a few more steps and then sat. "That's all very interesting, but do we know why she wants to hire us?"

Jensen frowned. "I would have thought she might want to contact her husband, but that would be a job for just you. Chau said that Mrs. Ferris was adamant about meeting with both of us."

Jared looked at his watch. The comm button on his desk lit up and Osric's voice came through. "Gentlemen, your one o'clock appointment is here. I'm having her acknowledge all our usual waivers and disclaimers." 

"Thanks Osric. Escort her up to my office when you're done." Jared smiled at Jensen. "I guess we're about to find out what the head of a multibillion dollar corporation wants with a couple of exotic investigators."

Jensen smiled back. He buttoned his top button and rolled down his sleeves. He'd taken to wearing soft, kid leather gloves when meeting someone for the first time, and he donned them now.

Osric knocked softly before opening Jared's door, and he was Osric today—dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt with a blue and red striped tie. Jared had long ago stopped trying to guess which office manager and personal assistant would show up for work in the morning. 

"Mrs. Ferris, this is Jared Padalecki." Osric indicated Jared, who was already standing. "And this is Jensen Ackles. Both together as promised." Jensen stood and smiled pleasantly, placing his gloved hands into his pockets.

Samantha Ferris wore a cobalt blue v-neck dress with a plain black suit jacket. Her light brown hair, with a touch of gray at the temples, was swooped into a low, elegant bun, and her manicured fingertips were the same deep red that glossed her lips. She had a small, black leather purse hanging from her left shoulder and in her right hand was a black, wooden walking cane with a silver handle. Her skin was sallow, bordering on yellow, and her eyes were dull.

"Thanks Osric, please have a seat, Mrs. Ferris," Jared said. "How may we help you?"

The woman moved slowly with short, painful-looking steps to the comfortable chair across from Jared's desk. She sat, leaned her cane against the armrest, and regarded Jared with shrewd eyes.

"You're the psychic?" Samantha Ferris's voice was ground raw. 

"Clairvoyance is one of my exotic talents," Jared replied, evenly.

"Do you know why I'm here, then?"

"I assure you, Mrs. Ferris, I never delve into anyone's forces without explicit permission. Professionally, it's unethical, and legally, it's Invasion of Privacy bordering on assault. Even with permission, it's not like I can snap my fingers and all knowledge just magically falls into place." Jared was used to the initial apprehension and, sometimes outward distrust people had for someone who can see their past, present and possible future. He would push past their rudeness and put them at ease by answering the questions as honestly and confidently as he could. 

But, there was something powerful emitting from the tired woman sitting in front of him. 

"I assure you," Jared said. "Your secrets are safe from me."

She nodded and turned to Jensen. "You're the empath. I'll need you first." Her eyes softened a moment and then ticked up to Jared. "I'll need you next."

Jensen took a small step forwards. "Maybe if you tell us why you're here, _we_ can be the judge of who you need to see first."

Samantha stared sadly at Jensen. 

He smiled, lightly. "After all, we are the experts."

"Not necessarily." She inhaled and let it out slowly. A grimace crossed her face but was gone as quickly as it had come.

Jared tried again. "Mrs. Ferris, please tell us what we can do to help you."

Instead of speaking, Samantha took a checkbook from her purse. She scribbled an amount and held it out to Jensen. "Here. Take this and see if it's enough to contract your services for discrete reasons, and for as speedy a resolution as possible."

Jensen crept closer, taking the check by the tip of the corner. His eyebrows climbed to his hairline. He handed the check to Jared.

Jared glanced at the check and quickly schooled his features. An amount that would pay for several months in a five star Caribbean getaway reflected back at him. 

"Yes," Jensen said. "That amount would certainly pay for our services, depending on what you want us to do." He glanced at Jared.

Jared unlocked the top drawer to his desk, deposited the check inside and re-locked it.

"Good. I need you to find someone for me." Samantha spoke softly with her head down. "They have something I need."

Jensen pushed the rolling desk chair over to sit across from his would-be client. "Tell us."

She raised her head and clamped her jaw tight. It looked to Jared like she was trying not to cry. She shook her head and looked at the floor, muttering words that he couldn't make out.

Jensen leaned in close to her. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

Before Jared could react, Samantha snapped up, and grabbed onto Jensen's face—his only exposed skin—and held on. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I have to do this. I'm sorry."

Jensen jumped away and flew back so fast that he hit the back wall. He held his cheek, scratched by Samantha's fingernails, and slid to the floor.

Jared was on her in a shot. "What did you do?" He held her by the wrist. Over his shoulder he called, "Jense, are you okay?"

All that came back was a soft moan.

"Start talking, Mrs. Ferris." Jared punched the comm key. "Osric, get up here now."

"You need to find a murderer. You need to find _my_ murderer." Ferris's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm sorry, but time is running out and I have to do this."

Osric banged open the door.

"Go help Jensen." Jared didn't take his eyes off Samantha. "And call Lt. Morgan. Tell him to send someone over here _now_."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "I'm going to ask you one more time. What did you do?" 

He held tight to her wrist and looked over his shoulder. Osric was helping Jensen stand up. Outside of the leaking scratches on his cheek, and being a little unsteady, he seemed all right.

Osric seated him in another chair and handed him a napkin. "Are you okay, Jensen?"

Jared held his breath.

Jensen's eyes zeroed in on Sam Ferris's. He patted his face with the napkin, looked at the smears of blood and said, "I don't think so."

"What's going on?" Osric asked.

Jensen drew in a big breath, exhaling slowly. "Osric?"

"Yeah?"

"Cancel my three-thirty."

~~*~~*~~


	3. Part Three

**_~~*~~*~~_ **

"That was an assault, Mrs. Ferris." Jared spoke as he paced. "Forcing your touch on an empath is against the law."

"Jare, you're wasting your breath. She knew exactly what she was doing since she's an empath, too."

_"What?"_ Jared turned to Jensen. "What did you say?" 

"Tell him, Mrs. Ferris." Jensen's voice shook ever so slightly. "Tell him what you did to me."

Jared went from blindsided to terrified. "She did something to you?" 

Jensen stared at Samantha. 

"What did you do to him?" Jared stood and loomed over her. "What. Did.You. Do?"

"I gave you both a reason to find my murderer." She was defiant. "I've been poisoned. I don't know how long I've got but I have an idea of the cause. My doctors know that it's some kind of complex, manufactured neuro toxin. It can be neutralized, but unless they have the exact formula, they may not be able to synthesize an antidote in time to save me."

"What does that have to do with Jensen?" He looked over at Jensen who was strangely silent. 

She bit her lip.

"She gave it to me," Jensen said. 

"She gave it to you? She gave _what_ to you?" Jared was not following at all. "What are you talking about?"

Jensen sat up and looked from one to the other. "She's an empath. She melded with my energies and poisoned me empathically. What she feels, I feel. What happens to her essentially happens to me." Jensen looked meaningfully at Jared. "At least until she dies."

"This is _unbelievable_." Jared raised his arms to the sky. "Touch him again and take it back, Mrs. Ferris. Pull back whatever forces you put in him and take it back."

"I can't do that."

"Yes, you can," Jared said through gritted teeth.

"I don't think so, Jay." Jensen open and closed his fists, staring at his fingers. "Her vital forces are melded with mine, and hers are very weak right now. Until she's strong enough, she and I are in this together."

" _You're_ strong enough. Just…just push it out." Jared's hands flailed in the air.

"It doesn't work like that." 

"What does that mean 'It doesn't work like that,'? What does that mean?" Jared struggled to keep the hysteria from his voice.

Jensen stood, facing Jared. "It means, my love, that we have to find either the poison or the poisoner."

Jared rounded on Samantha. She sat primly, with her hands folded in her lap. Her chin was held high, but her eyes were moist. 

"Why did you do this? You didn't have to go to this extreme. We would have helped you." 

"I'm desperate. I couldn't take that chance." Samantha Ferris seemed to deflate before their eyes. "For what it's worth, I don't believe Mr. Ackles will die with me, if it comes to that."

"You don't think he'll die?" Jared spun around. "Jensen, what is she saying?"

Jensen sighed. "The empathic connection will probably dissolve at the moment of her death."

"Probably?"

Jensen shrugged.

"This is insane." Jared glared at Samantha. "You are insane."

"Not insane. I just can't die right now," Samantha said. "I told you, he won't die even if I do."

"You don't know that and you're willing to put Jensen's life at risk."

"I did my homework, Mr. Padalecki. You two have an excellent track record for successfully closing cases, and I need a quick solution. I don't know when I was poisoned and I don't know how much time I have left. The symptoms are getting worse and, while my doctors are doing the best they can to find a cure, they need the formula or a sample of the original poison to create an antidote. The person who caused my illness is the one who can cure it. You can arrest me, sue me, put my story on the front page, or put me in prison, when this is all over. I don't care as long as I'm alive. Find the person who did this, find the poison, and then take whatever you want from me."

"You must have known, with the size of that check, that we would have taken the case." Jared said, defeated.

"That first check was only a down payment for your services," Samantha said. "Even if I'm in jail after this is over, and I believe I'll be guilty enough to serve time, there's another check, exactly like it, at the end of all this. Whether you're successful or not."

"You didn't have to hurt him," Jared said.

"Maybe, maybe not." Samantha pressed her lips into a fine line. "He probably won't die even if I do, but if you find the cure in time, it's guaranteed that he won't. And the sooner you find it, the better. Believe me." 

Jared stared into her sad, brown eyes. The air got so heavy, that it was a chore to breathe. 

Jensen was the one to speak first. "All right, Mrs. Ferris. If we're going to beat this, we need to know what you know. When the police get here, I want you to start at the top and tell us everything. The sooner we get started the sooner we get that second paycheck."

He turned to Jared. 

"After we're done in Trinidad and Tobago, we'll try out the five star hotels at Turks and Caicos."

~~*~~*~~

Fifteen minutes later, Jeff Morgan was sitting at Jared's desk across from Samantha Ferris. Jared and Jensen sat on the small settee along the back wall and Jared couldn't help curling his arms around him.

Jensen remained calm as the lieutenant questioned the woman, but Jared was just short of panic.

"When do you think you were poisoned, and are you certain that you have been poisoned and not developing some kind of medical condition?" Morgan asked.

"Yes," Samantha replied, tiredly. "I'm sure. I'll be happy to give you access to all my medical records to corroborate it. However, I'm not sure exactly when I was attacked. The symptoms surfaced gradually, starting about a month and a half ago. They began as a mild overall weakness, numbness in my fingers and toes, muscle cramping, things like that. When they started escalating, I sought medical advice. My regular doctor was stumped—didn't know what was wrong with me—but he knew to send me to a neurologist. Doctor Misha Collins detected and isolated my symptoms and, long story short, came to the conclusion that the only way all the things that were happening at once was due to artificial means."

"Are they still getting worse?" Jared blurted. "Are they painful?"

Jensen put his hand on Jared's shoulder to shush him. "Let's get to that later."

Jeff asked Samantha, "Why didn't you come to us? Why didn't you file a report with the police when you found out?"

"I'm an empath." She said it as though it answered the question.

"Jensen's an empath, and Jared's a claire. The police department works with Exotics all the time."

"As a woman in a powerful position, being an empath makes me a target of suspicion. I don't advertise my exotic status but I don't hide it, either. One time, one of my husband's associates found out and promptly accused me of cheating, bribery, taking unfair advantage, and of being a non-human-spawn-of-Satan." She sniffed, derisively. "And she was his longtime family friend." Samantha looked over at the two detectives cuddled on the settee. "Don't tell me you've never had anything like that happen to you."

Jensen looked at the floor while Jared remained silent.

Jeff turned to Jensen. "I'm assuming you're pressing assault charges?"

"Yes," Jared answered, quickly.

"Wait."

"What do you mean, _wait_? She attacked you." Jared swallowed. "She poisoned you."

"I know that. But we don't have all the facts." 

Jensen stood and walked toward Samantha, but kept his distance. "Why are you so determined to live that you would risk harming me like this? I can already feel my legs getting heavy and the joints in my hands aching."

"My daughter," she whispered. Samantha cleared her throat and said louder this time, "My daughter, Alona—Allie—is pregnant. I'm going to be a grandmother—if I live long enough."

"We would have helped you," Jared repeated, more to himself.

Jeff said, "Even if Jensen won't file charges, I am going to have to arrest you for criminal assault and extreme exotic violation resulting in empathic injury. If it's established that Jensen has been empathically poisoned, you could be charged with attempted murder."

"Jeff…" 

"He's right, Jensen," Jared's voice shook. "She attacked you, you were hurt."

"But we took her check, so she's our client." Jensen pointed to the locked desk drawer. 

"Depending on what she wanted us to _do_."

" _Gentlemen_." Jeff boomed. "It's out of your hands. However, due to her ill health, and decreased flight risk, I'll ask the DA to request a high bail rather than incarceration," he looked Samantha in the eye, "a really, really high bail. They'll probably end up putting you under house arrest."

Jeff stood and addressed her directly, "Samantha Ferris you are under arrest for aggravated assault. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have stated them?"

They all looked at the woman sitting in the chair. Her shoulders were slumped and sweat coated her face. She placed her shaking right hand on the handle of her cane and raised her left, "Yes, I understand. Help me up, Lieutenant. I'm ready to go with you."

After getting to her feet, Jeff had to steady her as she held her wrists out. 

"Don't take her out in cuffs, Jeff," Jensen said before Jared could interrupt. "It's bad for business."

"Okay," Jeff grumbled. "I'll be back to take a formal statement later." 

He slowly guided Samantha out by holding her elbow and snugging his arm around her waist.

Jensen sat heavily. Jared circled first before gently sitting at his right.

"How are you feeling?" Jared kept his voice as cool as he could. " _What_ are you feeling?"

"Weird. I feel weird." Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's go home."

~~*~~*~~

Jensen wasn't talking much and Jared couldn't keep his hands off of him. In the car, on the couch, up the stairs, or at their kitchen table, he had to be in contact with some part of Jensen – or at least within reaching distance. Empaths needed to be touched by loving, trusted people, but in this case, it was Jared's need, rather than Jensen's, that was stronger.

He knew that Jensen needed time to process, and it was normal for him to shut down for a while. So Jared took it easy, not asking questions, nor forcing fluids or food into him, until finally, Jensen said, "It's like everything is slow."

Jared spoke calmly. "Slow like, time is slowing down?"

"No, like under water slow. My muscles are slow to respond. My fingers take a long time to coordinate movements, I feel my breathing. Do I look slow?" Jensen's eyes were bright but dry. 

"No, you look scared." Jared tried a grin on him.

Jensen cocked a half smile back. "I am, but not petrified. Mostly, I'm wondering how this is gonna go down. Will I get all her symptoms at once or will they start gradually. Maybe the empathic connection will dull the symptoms and I'll continue to function with only a mild inconvenience."

Jared heard the desperation in Jensen's voice. 

"We'll beat this, Jen. We'll find the bastard who did this to Samantha and sue her for half of what she's worth." Jared rubbed Jensen's back. "Then we'll _buy_ the Turks and Caicos Islands."

Jensen laughed, unconsciously rubbing his stomach. 

Jared kissed the top of his head and stood. "I'm gonna get my feelers out into the ether tonight. Maybe communicating with her husband will give us a start, a direction to whoever might hate Samantha Ferris enough to kill her."

"Not tonight, though, okay?" Jensen asked, softly.

"Why not tonight?"

Jensen looked up, and this time Jared saw that Jensen's eyes were wet. 

"Jense, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, right now. Outside of feeling slightly disoriented and a having a little weakness here and there, I'm feeling mostly like myself."

"Then what?" Jared sat and took both of Jensen's hands in his.

"Make love to me tonight. While I'm still…while I can still enjoy it."

"We're going to beat this, babe," Jared repeated.

"I know that, I do. But, tonight, let's be the two of us in the dark, touching one another in ways that normal people can't."

"How can I say no to that?" He leaned in and kissed Jensen gently. "Why would I _want_ to?"

Jared stood and tugged Jensen up by his hands. Jensen teetered before finding his balance and then stood toe-to-toe with him. Jared cupped the back of Jensen's head and kissed him soundly before turning him around and leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. 

Night was falling later and later, but the early spring evening was hazy and cool. Goose flesh appeared on Jensen's arms as Jared removed his gloves, sweater and long-sleeved tee. He carefully laid Jensen down, undoing all the buckles, buttons and zippers, getting rid of the unwanted clothing. 

He did away with his own clothes, watching Jensen's eyes become hooded and dark as each layer came off. Jared casually stroked his own cock, plumping himself up to half hard while staring at Jensen. Jensen reached a hand out and fisted Jared's erection along with him.

The flutter of Jensen's empathic energy trembled all around Jared's dick like thunder before a storm. Jensen moved his fist with Jared's, strong and sure. Jared felt Jensen's energy pulsating up to the head of his cock and down into his balls with each stroke.

"God, Jensen," Jared moaned. "When you do that, I'm on fire."

Jensen moaned with him, "No, I can feel it, remember? It's electric, like lightning." Jensen gently squeezed Jared's cock with one hand, and the other dipped down and cupped his heavy balls.

"Keep that up and it's gonna be over before it starts." The magnetic heat from Jensen's hands diminished quickly leaving silver streaks of icy cool in its place. 

"Mmm, I never know what I like more—the fire or the ice."

"I like it hot," Jensen murmured.

Jared pressed his heated, naked skin down onto Jensen's, touching everywhere with every part of him. He hugged his arms around Jensen, touching him with his body, mind, and heart. 

"See me," Jensen pleaded.

Jared obeyed. He rolled his eyes back, opened his psyche and aimed it at Jensen. Visions flooded through them both. Images so sharp and clear like each event could have happened yesterday. Their early days at the Starr Summer Academy, building campfires, single-handedly roasting dozens of marshmallows to build giant chocolate-gooey graham cracker S'mores—Jensen studying for his college finals, drinking cold coffee, looking up to smile at Jared—the two of them arguing with each other over the best way to apply for a loan to open their business—sitting in the Realtor's office, holding hands under the table, writing up an offer to buy this, their first home.

"Feel me," Jensen insisted.

Jared placed his hands on Jensen's face, mindful of the small scratches there. Jensen clasped hard onto Jared's shoulders, his fingernails pressing little half-moon shapes into his skin. Jared gasped. This time, Jensen's essence flooded into him, engulfing Jared with its intensity. Jensen was present in Jared from the upper crust of his mind to the depths of his bones. This entanglement of souls, Jared thought, was more intimate than sex, more profound than love.

Jensen was afraid. Jared felt and shared Jensen's fear, pressing kisses into Jensen's skin. Under that was a layer of anger, then sorrow and ultimately, the bewilderment of _why_? Why was this story being played out on him? 

Jared nipped small kisses over Jensen's heart because underneath all the fear and rage, burned a passion, hotter, stronger and steadier than those. In Jensen's core, burned a blue-hot flame of trust and a white-hot fire of the pure love he had for Jared. Jared gasped, catching his breath at the intensity. As familiar as it was, it affected him like this every single time.

"Touch me, Jared."

Jared opened his palm and placed it on Jensen's heart. The proof of life was beating strong and sturdy under his hand. Lungs like bellows, filling and emptying, blood running fast and hot under his sweaty skin, reddening his cheeks, his ears, his lips and the tip of his cock. Jared leaned in and kissed the beautiful pink lips, sucking on Jensen's tongue, teeth clashing, hearts beating in rhythm, each inhale and exhale mirroring each other breath for breath. Jensen lifted his legs one at a time, and draped them over Jared's shoulders. 

Jared leaned down, to uncap the tube of lube he had under the bed and thoroughly coated his fingers. Jensen's hands slid down to cup Jared's ass his energy sparking from his fingertips everywhere they touched. One of Jared's lube slicked fingers breached Jensen's hole, and then a second finger pushed in beside. Jensen's body quivered and bucked up under Jared's hand. Jared added a third finger and pressed in, up to the second knuckle and scissored his fingers open. Jensen hissed, pushing himself down harder onto Jared's fingers. Jared moved with Jensen, pushing up, crooking his fingers, twisting his wrist. Jensen moaned and cried out, "Please, Jay. _Please_." 

"I've got you, Jen. Let me."

Jared removed his fingers, wiped them on the sheet and slicked up his bare cock. Jensen looked up at him with wrecked eyes and hiked his hips up. No further invitation was necessary. Jared held tight to the base of his dick and pushed and pushed until there was no more room between them. 

An explosion of light and color burst behind his closed eyes. Jensen's emotions surged through Jared so strongly that tears flowed unchecked. He gritted his teeth and began to move inside Jensen. Jensen growled deep in his chest. It was a triumphant sound, like a caged animal finally being freed. 

The fight or flight sensation that usually overcame Jensen during sex, coursed through Jared along with that shimmering echo of "catch me, Jared…don't let me go" that turned up the heat, and Jared was helpless to do anything but pound into Jensen over and over again. Jensen reached for the headboard with one hand and groaned with need. He grasped his own stiff erection and pumped it in time with Jared's hips. 

Jared joined one of his lubed hands with Jensen's and upped the pace. The feelings heightened and crested as Jensen's emotions washed through him. They were soul to soul now. Their touches blazed of _need, want, love, trust, now and forever._

"Heal me," Jensen whispered, fervently.

"I will. I swear." Jared reared up, buried himself as far into Jensen as he could, and swiveled his hips, hard. He felt Jensen clench all around him and hazily noted that Jensen's precome was smearing his forearm and chest. 

Jensen's aura flooded the room with a bright lemon yellow light tinged in dusky red as Jensen came with a shout. The red arose from Jensen's negative energy and anger, and was almost overshadowed by the brightness of the yellow. This yellow was from fear of loss. His usual shades of bright, light blue and indigo— powerful communicator and wise seeker—were overpowered by his fear and impending ill-health.

With one last push, Jared threw his head back and cried out. He came thick and hard inside Jensen. He pistoned his hips in and out as his orgasm waned, finally stopping when everything became too much. 

Jared shifted and kissed Jensen tenderly as they embraced in the dark room, still connected. The musky scent of sex floated in the air and the sound of their breaths echoed into the night. 

"Royal blue and violet," Jensen panted. 

Jared carefully pulled out and dropped down next to Jensen. 

"So, I'm a daydreaming clairvoyant. What else is new?" Jared turned on his side and nuzzled Jensen's neck. 

"You're a generous, caring spirit and a visionary." Jensen kissed the top of Jared's head. "You're my hero."

They lay in each other's arms while their breathing calmed down. 

"Normal people can't do what we just did, can they?" Jensen said.

"Not like we can, that's for sure," Jared kissed him, his lips lingering longer than usual. "We're special, you and I."

"Especially me," Jensen grinned.

"Especially you. So, so special." He smiled and got out of bed. "But it's not always all about you. I have some pretty impressive talents of my own."

"That you do," Jensen agreed.

Jared headed for the bathroom and returned several minutes later. He handed Jensen a warm, damp cloth and snuggled under the covers while Jensen used it. 

Jensen put his head on Jared's chest and his breathing slowed. "I've got to tell you something before all this gets going."

Jared wasn't going to pretend that he didn't know what the "all this" was.

"I'm listening." Jared stroked along the scratch marks on Jensen's cheek.

"Under no circumstances are you to look into the veil and see any outcomes to this. You do not have my permission to look into my future."

"Jense, you know I wouldn't."

"If things get desperate, you might. You're forever the optimist, and you'd go off looking for good news. I don't want either of us to get caught up in that. I'm telling you now that if I ever suggest anything like that in the future –never give in to me. No matter how sick I get."

"Jensen."

"I need you to promise me."

"It's not going to come down to that," Jared said. "We're going to kick this in the ass. It's never going to get that far." Jared rose up on one elbow, disengaging himself from Jensen's touch. "We got this."

"I know what you're doing, but I'm not falling for the subject change. Please promise me you'll leave the future alone. Let what's going to happen, happen without either one of us knowing."

"But what if the future tells us how to beat this? Come on, Jensen, it's _my_ nature, and I've got to use all the tools at my disposal. Besides…" Suddenly, a feeling of deep dread wrapped around him, making it difficult to talk. He shook it off before Jensen touched him. "…if I promise, and it gets bad, I might not be able to keep it."

"That's not how we do this." Jensen flexed and opened his fists one at a time. "I don't want to start now. Not now. Not with me."

"Jen, I'm going to do everything in my power…"

"Not that."

Jared shook his head.

"Jay, I'm hoping you'll honor my wishes. I'd like you to promise me this, but I won't argue with you, and I won't mention it again. But, please, before you do use everything in your power, promise me you'll at least think about how much I don't want you to do it."

Jared looked into Jensen's sad, determined eyes.

"Okay, I promise," Jared choked out. "I promise not to look into our future. Yours or mine."

"Thank you," Jensen said so genuinely, that Jared knew he'd never break this promise.

"I love you," Jared said, simply.

"You do," Jensen's voice was sleepy-playful. "Because I was there just now, and I know it for a fact."

"I know you know. I still like to say it." He kissed Jensen's cheek. "Go to sleep."

"Okay." Jensen stretched both arms out and then yawned impressively. "I'm tired." He yawned again and burrowed down. "Wake me when it's all over."

Jared absently stroked Jensen's hair until Jensen's body went lax and his breathing deep and even. He pressed his lips to Jensen's temple as the overwhelming sadness returned.

_"We'll beat this. I swear."_

  
  


~~*~~*~~

The master bedroom took up almost the entire second floor of the house. According to the previous owners, there used to be four small bedrooms on that floor, and now there was one large bedroom and one huge master suite.

Jared had gotten up at five the next morning. He sat at their kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the information Chau had given Jensen prior to meeting Samantha Ferris. 

He figured six-thirty was long enough to wait before calling his office manager. 

"Hey, it's Jared."

"Hey, baby. How's Jen? How're you? You all coming in today?"

"Jensen's sleeping and I'm scared shitless. Listen, I don't know if we'll be in or not, but I need you to open the office. Absolutely no appointments unless they pertain to Samantha Ferris or Jensen. Everyone else, take a number. I want you to research empathic diseases, illnesses, injuries, everything. I need to know how the symptoms of the actual infected person mirror on the empath: Severity, duration, treatment, the works. Especially treating empathic symptoms. We can't –Jensen can't use drugs so if the management of symptoms include narcotics, it's a no-go, so find us something we can use. Oh, and get the number of Ferris's neurologist."

"I'm on it, boss man. Give your guy a smooch for me. I'll open up at eight."

"Thanks, hon."

"Why did you get her up so early?" Jensen knuckled his eyes and sniffed the air. 

"I'm paying her, she does what I tell her." Jared stood, holding himself back from clutching Jensen to his chest and not letting go. "How are you doing?"

"So far, so good, I guess. Is that Kona or Columbian?" Jensen headed for their expensive coffee grinder and brewer. 

"Sumatra," Jared answered, highlighting a sentence. "I gave Chau a lot of things to look into, so it's going to be a research-and-phone-call kind of day today."

He turned a page to read about how Mark Pellegrino started the Pharm Call Company when an explosion of glass shattered the quiet and Jensen yelped.

Jared jumped up. "Jesus, Jensen. What happened?"

Shards of porcelain that used to be their coffee carafe were scattered across the kitchen floor. Hot Sumatra coffee flowed along the tiled floor and over Jensen's bare feet. 

"Don't move, don't move. You'll cut your toes." Jared held a _Stop_ hand out to Jensen. "Are you okay?"

Jensen held tight to the counter with one hand and looked at the other hand with a bewildered expression. "I couldn't hold it. I picked it up, but it fell right out of my hand." He went from bewildered to angry. "It was a coffee pot, not a fucking fifty pound weight. And it wasn't even full." He swayed and held onto the counter with both hands. Shifting his weight, he stepped on a sharp porcelain sliver and drew his foot back. _"Fuck."_

"Here, here, come here. Sit down." Jared safely ushered him to his spot at the table and checked Jensen's toes. Seeing it was only a scratch, he proceeded to clean up the coffee mess and the broken pot.

As Jared swept the last pieces into the trash he asked, "Do you know what happened?"

Jared looked up from the wastebasket and saw Jensen curled over himself cradling his arms. 

"What, Jen?" 

"Muscle cramps. My hands and fingers are all cramping. Shit." 

Jared ran and got a heating pad and plugged it in, gently rubbing Jensen's forearms and hands while it heated up. There were tense muscles and tight spasms under the skin of both Jensen's arms. He pressed the warm pad to his fingers and hands until the heat soaked in. Jared massaged out the knots as he gently moved Jensen's fingers, thumbs, wrists, and elbows. Finally, Jensen breathed easy and he could move them freely on his own.

"What the fuck was that?" Jensen asked, plaintively. 

"I think the symptoms are starting," Jared whispered. 

"I think you're right." Jensen wiggled his fingers and toes. "Seems to be okay, now."

"It's not okay," Jared said, evenly. "But it will be."

Jensen gave Jared a soft smile. "I know it will."

"Jensen, I swear. We will catch the son of a bitch that did this, and we'll make them pay. Shit, Ferris alone will owe us so much that to hell with just the Turks and Caicos, we'll throw Nassau and the Bahamas into the shopping cart, too."

Jensen laughed weakly and stood, but Jared could see how hard he was trying not to freak out. Jensen opened his arms. 

Jared took him in and held tight. Jensen pressed his head against Jared's chest and calmed his breathing. Jared scratched his scalp and shushed him.

"Jay, there's one thing I really need from you right now. All kidding aside." 

"Anything, sweetheart, anything. You know that."

Jensen clamped onto him for dear life, as though he would drift apart without Jared holding him together. Jensen's head nuzzled under Jared's chin, and Jared thought he heard a soft sniff.

"Tell me what I can do," Jared whispered.

"Coffee." Jensen raised his eyes. "Make another pot, but use the Kona beans this time. The Sumatra was too strong."

It took Jared a split second to translate the sounds into words. He chuffed a laugh and kissed him gently.

"With a double shot of espresso and a half shot of hazelnut with 1% soy milk. Coming up." Jared didn't make a move toward the coffee maker. Instead, he stayed glued to Jensen, feeling the slight fasciculations of his arm muscles itching to cramp up again. 

Jensen shifted in Jared's arms. "I need to sit down."

They both sat at the kitchen table. Jensen looked pensive, and then nodded sharply. "Okay, make coffee and eggs, help me into the shower, and then we go into the office."

"I was thinking you should stay home today," Jared argued, weakly.

"There'll be plenty of time to stay home. As long as I'm able, I want to do my part with this case." He side-eyed Jared and smiled. "Sometimes it _is_ all about me." 

Jared looked at Jensen and, at that moment, he didn't look sick, he didn't look hurt, he looked determined. And Jared felt a surge of pride to go along with the protection.

Jared nodded back and said, "Okay. Coffee, eggs, and I'll toast up a couple of English Muffins."

"Good call," Jensen said. "Get out the orange marmalade." 

Jared got up and opened the refrigerator. "Oh, and Jensen, when this is all over?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna marry you."

Jensen laughed for real. "Oh yeah? Well, you gotta ask me first and see what I say."

"Deal," Jared said.

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~


	4. Part Four

**_~~*~~*~~_ **

Getting to the car took longer than Jared anticipated. Jensen's cramping muscles had calmed down, but his arms and legs were weak. Walking out to the driveway took both of them, and Jensen was panting with exertion by the time Jared got him into the passenger's seat.

Jared rolled up to their building and parked in his designated spot.

"Fuck, Jared. It's going to take me an hour to get from the car into my office." Jensen rubbed his calves as he glared at their building. 

"I have an idea. Are you okay to wait here for a couple of minutes?" Jared asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Jared was vaguely relieved that Jensen was scowling rather than grimacing. 

Their Agency took up the left half of the two-story building. The other half of the building was shared by two businesses. A small two-person accounting partnership was one, but it was the unisex hair salon, _Peace of Hair_ , catering to walk-ins he was interested in. Jared noted that some of their patrons were elderly. 

"Excuse me. Good morning. Hi, I'm Jared, from the other side of the building." He smiled at the staff and two customers already getting early morning trims.

"Hi, Jared. We've met. Remember when there was that rodent outbreak last summer?" A lovely, young, dark-haired woman with _Cindy_ embroidered on her breast pocket waved to him.

"Sure, of course, I remember. Hi, Cindy. Hey, I've got a favor to ask. My partner, Jensen, is having some trouble with his legs today, and I was wondering if I could borrow your wheelchair? Maybe for a couple of days? Just maybe two, but no more, because if he needs one longer than that, I'll buy him one." He tried not to sound as breathless as he was. 

"Hey, hey, slow down." She excused herself to her customer, dropped the comb she was using into some blue liquid and walked over. "Of course you can use it, and you're welcome to it for as long as you need. Remember, we were in the same trenches when the mice attacked." 

Jared smiled. "I do remember. It was quite a battle, but we both came out of it alive."

"Bloody but unbowed," she said, smiling. Cindy went to the back and came out pushing a standard wheelchair. It appeared well-used, but had a clean, soft-looking cushion. 

"Here you go. Hope he feels better."

"Thank you, Cindy," he said, taking the chair from her.

When he pushed it through the door the breath whooshed out of him. 

This was real.

Jensen needed a wheelchair.

He shook those thoughts from his mind and wheeled the chair over to the car. 

There was a thin sheen of sweat coating Jensen's face. He was doubled over and panting. 

"Jensen, what's wrong?" Jared jerked the door open. 

"Out of the way," he gritted. 

Jared instinctively stepped back as Jensen lurched forward, hurling his breakfast onto the sidewalk.

"Jesus, Jen." Jared reached out.

"Don't…don't…" And Jensen heaved again. 

After several minutes of heavy breathing, repeated swallowing but no gagging, Jared asked, "What can I do?"

Jensen looked up with watery eyes and tried to smile. "Just what you did. Stand clear when I tell you." He rubbed his stomach and took in another deep breath. "I think it's okay, now. Bring that chair over here and help me get in. Look out for the mess."

Jared initially feared that Jensen would be reluctant to use the wheelchair. It was a testament to how weak he felt that he requested the chair.

Getting into Jensen's office proved to be the easiest thing they'd done all morning. With Jared at the wheel, Jensen only had to sit and protect his queasy stomach against the bumps and turns. The wheelchair was a good height for Jensen to sit at his desk. 

"I'm going up to my office to get my files. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Jared couldn't help himself, he kissed Jensen's shoulder and neck from behind, hugging him as he whispered, "I'll be right back."

Jensen patted Jared's hand. "I'm good, Jay. Take your time. Everything seems to be staying put."

~~*~~*~~

Jared stormed out into the hallway almost knocking Chau down in the process.

"Jensen needs a wheelchair already." She didn't phrase it as a question. "This is happening fast."

"I can't believe it. It's like a bad dream and I can't wake up." Jared paused at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his second story office. "How can this be happening?"

"It's not a dream," she said. "But now is not the time to lose our shit. He needs us to be strong, but more than that—he needs us to do our jobs." She rose up tall on her gladiator spike heels, looking Jared almost squarely in the eye. "We're the best detective agency around, so we'd better start doing what we do best."

"Damn right we are. We're going to kick this case in the ass." Jared centered himself for a moment. "Did you get the information I asked for?"

"Working on it, boss. There's not much I can find on empathic healing." Her high heels clacked and the bangles on her wrists clinked as she walked with Jared up the stairs to his office. "I've gotten started on some files. They're at my desk. I'll help you get your stuff down to Jensen's office, and then I'll meet you there with what I've dug up."

"Thanks, hon. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it." She winked and opened Jared's top file drawer.

~~

Jared approached Jensen's office slowly, listening for any signs of trouble. Instead, he heard Jensen talking on the phone.

"…Ferris and that's your earliest appointment? That's not going to work. I need to see Doctor Collins immediately, and there's no way I can wait that long." Jensen was silent a moment, then said, "Because I'll be dead." 

Pause

"Yes, really."

Pause

"Yes, I'll hold."

Jensen stood on wobbly legs looking out his window at the courtyard. He used one hand to brace himself against the desk and the other to write notes on his yellow legal pad. He looked up as Jared made his presence known and held a finger to silence him.

"Three fifteen this afternoon?" Jensen looked to Jared who nodded vigorously.

"That will be fine. Yes, I do. Yes, I will. No, but my partner has a GPS. Yes, thank you. Thanks."

Jensen sat heavily in the armchair by the window and sneered at the wheelchair. "I know I don't have actual symptoms, but maybe Dr. Collins can shed some light on the progression of this—I don't know what to call it. Disease? Condition?"

"Good thinking. He might also give us a hint as to whether they're close to a cure for Samantha." Jared sat next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Right now, I'm okay. I'm a little shaky on my feet but nothing like getting to the car earlier. I guess one of the things I want from the doctor is a heads-up on what's coming down the road. I didn't notice Samantha Ferris using a wheelchair yesterday."

"I thought that, too," Jared said. "Maybe your symptoms are steam rolling into you, catching up to where she is now. I don't know. Again, good call making the appointment. That gives me time to talk to Mark Pellegrino before I come back and get you."

"What are you talking about—come back and get me?" Jensen made a notation on his legal pad.

"Well, I thought you'd want me with you when you met with the doctor." 

Jared tried not to let the hurt bleed through his voice because he was going to let Jensen handle this however he wanted. 

"Of course I want you with me."

He was relieved until Jensen continued, "I'm coming with you to talk to Pellegrino."

"What?"

"Last time I looked, my license said that I was a detective in good standing with the Kapok Shade Exotic Detective Agency." Jensen winced and shifted his hips. 

"You are, you dope," Jared said, lightly. "I was just thinking that this might be too much for you today."

"Don't start treating me like an invalid," Jensen growled. "Not yet, anyway." 

Jared knew to back off. "I'm not, but cut me some slack, here. I lost my favorite coffee pot this morning." He pouted at Jensen from under his bangs.

Jensen let out a breathy laugh. 

"And just," Jared continued, "cut _me_ some slack for being concerned about you. You know you'd feel the same if it were me."

Jensen sighed. "You're right, I would, but let me come with you. I couldn't stand just waiting here."

"Okay, yeah. I don't want to leave you either." 

The intercom lit up on Jensen's desk and Chau's voice said, "Jen, Jay, Lieutenant Morgan called. He said to tell you that Samantha Ferris is home on house arrest, and that he's stationing a couple of cops out front to make sure she stays put."

"Thanks," Jared said. "I'm glad Jeff did that. He didn't have to."

"He's a good friend." Jensen leaned forward trying to stand up. "Well, are you ready to do some detective work?"

Jared smiled, warmly. "I am if you are."

"Good." Jensen's voice remained neutral. "Then get that monstrosity over here and get me to the car."

Jared maneuvered the wheelchair and helped Jensen climb in.

"I might not need it when we get there. The weakness comes and goes." Jensen looked away as Jared pushed.

"That's okay. It's only temporary, and I don't mind." He took off in a slow run down the hallway, zipping around the corners making race car noises. He popped the front wheels up an inch or two in a small version of a wheelie.

"What are you, twelve?" Jensen asked in mock exasperation. 

Jared decided on Paul McCartney and Wings this time. "Said farewell to my last hotel, it never was much kind of abode. Glasgow town never brought me down when I was heading out on the road."

Jared raced them out to the parking lot; Jensen trying not to laugh while holding onto the armrests for dear life.

"Carlisle city never looked so pretty, and the Kendal freeway is fast. Slow down, driver, wanna stay alive, I wanna make this journey last."

He stopped and rocked the wheels up and down gently, crooning, "Heleeen, hell on wheels! Ain't nobody else gonna know the way she feeeels!"

Then, just to mix it up...

"Jenseeen, hell on wheels! And they never gonna take him awaaayy."

"I was being generous when I said twelve."

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. Pellegrino, but time is literally of the essence," Jared said. "I'm Jared Padalecki and this is Jensen Ackles. We're private detectives, hired by Samantha Ferris."

Jared helped Jensen sit in one of Mark Pellegrino's large, padded office chairs. Jensen had stubbornly walked into the office with Jared's help, but Jared wasn't sure if he could make it out the same way.

"You terrorized my secretary into showing you in." Pellegrino didn't appear so much upset as pissed off. "Life and death, murder and poison, that's enough to send anyone's personal assistant into a tailspin." 

"We thank you, anyway, sir." Jensen's voice was noticeably weak and the CEO must have noticed. 

Pellegrino sighed and sat behind his desk. "I don't know how you think I can help you. Samantha Ferris and I have a successful working relationship but I wouldn't call us friends. I was her late husband's business partner and rarely saw her until Nathan died."

"Were you friends with Nathan?" Jared asked.

"No," he replied simply.

Jared narrowed his eyes. "Let me try this another way, Mr. Pellegrino. A month ago, or thereabouts, Samantha Ferris discovered she'd been infected with an unidentified neurologic toxin. It's killing her, and she needs the formula for the toxin, a sample of the toxin, or the creator of the poison who knows the formula, in order for an antidote to be synthesized. She's hired us to find her potential murderer. Do you know anything about this?"

During Jared's explanation, Pellegrino went from smarmy to genuinely horrified. 

"I had no idea she was ill. No idea."

"I thought you ran the company together. Surely you must have noticed her absence." Jared stood and paced.

"Our company meeting to compile the first quarter results is scheduled for mid-April. We have very little personal contact between meetings as our respective office staffs coordinate with each other for the dissemination of information. Unless there's a situation that requires both of our presences, and that's rare, we only see each other at the meetings." Mark's voice spoke of surprise and disbelief. "How sick is she?"

"Very," Jensen replied. "She can hardly eat and keep things down. Her hands are numb and her legs are so weak they can barely hold her up. She gets painful muscle cramps, her head aches and her vision swims." He squeezed his eyes tight. "And she is so, so afraid to die."

"How do you know all this?" Mark asked.

Jensen started speaking, but he suddenly exploded into a round of coughing that took them all off guard. Jensen hacked and wheezed until sweat poured down his face and neck.

"What happened? What can I do?" Pellegrino was on his feet.

"Water," Jensen hissed.

Mark quickly filled a glass from the pitcher on his desk and handed it to Jensen. Jensen gripped Mark's wrist and held tight. If Mark felt the frisson of empathic energy run up and down his arm, he didn't show it.

Jensen drank slowly, and his coughing stopped. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looked up at Jared and shook his head.

Jared took the empty glass from Jensen and nodded his understanding. He asked Mark, "Did you know that Samantha is an empath?"

"Yes, I did. But it was of no consequence to me." Mark looked from one to the other. "I honestly don't care."

"Jensen is an empath, too, and Samantha attacked him on that level, poisoning him with the same poison flowing through her system. He feels what she feels and he's going to go through everything she does, right up until she dies. We don't know what will happen to him if she does die, and I don't intend to find out."

Jared pinned Mark to the wall with his stare. Mark flinched but held Jared's gaze.

"I'm not responsible for this," Pellegrino said. "Samantha and I run a successful business. I miss Nate on a professional level, because he successfully merged our businesses and helped build this corporation. Frankly, I've never been as well off, or as powerful as I am now, but I could not have done it without him. I also believe that Nate's wife is just as savvy at business dealings and finances as he was."

Jared and Mark silently regarded one another. 

Mark held his hand out to Jensen, "If you're an empath, touch me and tell me I'm lying."

"That…that won't be necessary. Jay?"

Jared continued to lock eyes with Mark. "If I find out that you're lying..."

"Jay?"

"…and there's one _inkling_ that you had some involvement in this." Jared waved his hand between Mark and Jensen.

"Jay?"

"…I will bring all my formidable forces to bear, psychic and otherwise—with _you_ smack dab in the center of my crosshairs."

"Mr. Padalecki?" Mark pointed to Jensen writhing in the chair. "Your partner?"

Jared spun around. Jensen jerked up from his seated positon, gasping in huge gulps of air. 

"Jensen, what's happening?" Jared patted Jensen's back.

"Can't…can't…" Jensen wheezed and coughed in rapid succession. After several seconds, Jensen stopped breathing. His eyes went wide, opening his mouth in a strenuous attempt to pull air in.

"Easy, Jen. Be easy, this isn't happening to you, it's happening to her." Jared grasped Jensen's shoulders. "Look at me. Be calm and let yourself breathe."

Jensen gasped in several small breaths, but when he stopped, Jared didn’t see Jensen's chest rise or fall. 

Jensen’s hands went to his throat, panic jack-knifing through him. His hips jolted up off the seat, body slamming against the backrest as he struggled for breath. 

Jared wedged himself into the chair beside him. He threw his arms around Jensen's upper body and squeezed. Jensen’s terrified eyes bored into Jared’s and then he clamped them shut. 

“Breathe with me,” Jared ordered. He exaggerated an inhale while decreasing the pressure on Jensen’s chest. “It's not real, this isn't happening to you. Open your eyes and breathe with me.” 

Jared breathed out, squeezing tight as he blew his breath into Jensen’s face. “Breathe with me, Jensen! I mean it!” 

Jared repeated the process: press, release, shout at Jensen, press, release, shout at Jensen. 

Jared got dizzy, his lungs working overtime trying to take in enough air for the both of them. “In and out, man. Come on, come on, _come on_.” 

Jensen’s hands were fisted and his feet pushed into the carpet, but he mimicked Jared’s breathing as best as he could. 

Finally a sip of air passed through Jensen’s colorless lips. Jared hugged tight again, and Jensen groaned painfully. When Jared let up, a swallow of air made its way down Jensen's airway.

“Keep going, Jen.” 

Jensen finally opened his eyes.

“Take one more breath," Jared urged.

Another whisper of air, and then another made its way down into Jensen's lungs. 

“Keep on breathing, love.” He turned Jensen so they were eye to eye. “And don’t stop.” 

Jensen obeyed. 

Little by little, Jared eased up on the squeeze/release, letting Jensen breathe in and out at his own rate.

Jared put his arm around Jen’s shoulder and his hand against his partner’s chest, feeling Jensen’s heart beating way too fast.

Jensen settled his forehead against Jared’s shoulder shuddering as he gasped. His eyes were watery and tears leaked over his lashes.

"Holy shit," Jensen rasped. 

"That can't be good," Jared agreed. He kept his hand over Jensen's heart until the frantic beats slowed down.

Jared pulled his phone from his back pocket and hit the speed dial.

"Morgan."

"Jeff, if Jensen's health is any indication, you'd better find Samantha Ferris soon and get her to a hospital."

There was a short, knowing pause and then Jeff said, "On it. Morgan out."

Jared turned to Jensen, who was breathing easily but shaking. "We need to get to your doctor's appointment."

Jensen closed his eyes.

"Mr. Pellegrino." Jared stood and helped Jensen to stand. "Thank you for your time."

"I'm sorry. I _am_ sorry. Nate's the reason that PharmCare is successful, and Samantha is one reason we continue to succeed. I don't want anything to happen to her." He looked at Jensen, trembling in Jared's arms. "And I don't want anything to happen to you, Mr. Ackles. I'm at your disposal. Night or day." He held out his hand.

Jared moved to reach out his hand, but Jensen beat him to it. Jensen shook Mark's hand and said, "I need to apologize. I touched you—read you—without your permission during my coughing jag, and that was wrong. I'm desperate, but that doesn't excuse what I did."

"I understand. Believe me, Mr. Ackles, your indiscretion was a minor one compared to all of mine. You're forgiven."

"The touch was brief, but I felt that you were a truthful man, and we thank you for your time."

"You're welcome. Do you need any help getting out to your car?"

"No, Jared's got me."

Jared smiled weakly at Mark. "I'm sorry that I came down hard on you." He shifted Jensen's weight onto his shoulder. 

Pellegrino opened the door to his office and helped them out into the hallway. "I hope you find her in time, for both their sakes. Good luck."

Jared thanked him again, Jensen coughed weakly into Jared's shoulder and Mark waved them good-bye.

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

The staff at Doctor Misha Collins's office had apparently been waiting for Jensen to arrive, for as soon as Jared checked Jensen in, an exam room was immediately available. Jared rolled Jensen in his borrowed wheelchair into Exam Room #3 and locked the wheels.

"Is Jeff going to call us after he picks up Samantha?" Jensen's voice was raspy, but his lungs were clear and his breathing was even. 

"I don't know. I hope so." Jared rubbed his eyes. "What happened, Jensen? In Pellegrino's office? What did it feel like?"

There was quick knock on the door and a man in a long, white lab coat entered the room. "What _did_ happen? Something just now? I'm Doctor Collins."

Collins opened his tablet and scrolled down. He used a stylus to write on the smooth, glassine surface.

"Um, I'm Jared Padalecki, and this is…"

"Jensen Ackles. Infected empath," Collins said. "I don't know what I can do for you, Mr. Jensen, because your symptoms aren't caused by anything _physical_. I also can't discuss Mrs. Ferris's condition with you due to confidentiality constraints. You understand that, right?"

Jared raised a hand. "Slow down, now."

"She's dying, I feel like she's dying," Jensen said. "Am I dying, too?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Let's discuss the progression of your symptoms and see if I can detect a pattern." He held out his hand and Jensen shook it.

Collins regarded Jared. "What relation are you to Mr. Jensen?"

"Ackles," Jared corrected.

Misha cocked his head to the side. "Excuse me?" 

"His name is Jensen Ackles and I'm his, uh…"

"Betrothed," Jensen said, shooting Jared a smile. "Unless you're taking back your proposal?"

Jared smiled big and said to Dr. Collins. "I'm Jensen's fiancé and hold his power of attorney."

He leaned in and whispered to Jensen, "That's right, isn't it?"

"Damned if I know, but go with it."

"So, yes, yes I am. That." Jared squared his shoulders. "Those."

"Then you can stay." Misha never looked up from the tablet he was writing on. "I have an idea of the symptoms you're experiencing and I have to tell you that they are going to get worse, and probably pretty quickly. You were infected rather recently, is that correct?"

"Yesterday," Jensen said. "It started with being tired and an overall feeling of weakness. Then, this morning, my hands and fingers got numb and too weak to hold onto a fucking coffee pot. A little while later, my legs got hit with it." 

Collins looked up from his pad and nodded. "Then all of the symptoms came crashing down on you like ten tons of bricks. You didn't have the time to adapt to them over time. I suspect that the symptoms will continue to hit hard until you catch up to where she is in the course of her illness. Hypothetically."

"Can you help him?" This was the only question Jared wanted the answer to. "Please, he's suffering."

The doctor softened his demeanor. "I know, and I'm sorry. I have been able to offer my patients relief through a variety of narcotic, non-narcotic, holistic and herbal remedies but I'm out of my league with empathic illnesses. The only way I can think to lessen the severity of your symptoms is by knocking you out, because, in reality, I can't _treat_ your symptoms." He spoke to Jensen. "I don't recommend that, though. We won't be able to follow the course of your illness if you're unconscious."

"It's not an illness," Jared interrupted. "It's attempted murder."

"I don't want that anyway," Jensen said.

"We'll discuss it." Dr. Collins tabbed through several pages on his tablet. "How are you feeling, now?"

"Okay."

"He almost collapsed because he couldn't breathe."

"How long ago was that?"

"About an hour. He's all right, now." Jared grinned shakily at Jensen. "Why did that happen?"

Dr. Collins put down his tablet and unwound the stethoscope from his neck. "That happened because a neuro toxin impairs the whole nervous system. Nerves transmit electrical signals throughout the body and coordinate all the voluntary and involuntary muscle actions. That includes the processes of respiration and digestion as well as the firing of leg and hand muscles. If the nervous system doesn't work right, nothing works right."

He pressed the stethoscope's chestpiece up and down Jensen's back and chest asking for deep breaths. A pulse oximeter was clipped to Jensen's middle finger and the doctor took temperature and blood pressure.

"I can't say for certain, but it's possible that in my other patient's case, her respiratory capacity—the amount of air the lungs can take in and blow out—is decreasing. I think you're right Mr. Ackles. She may be dying. The good news is—and this _is_ good news— _your_ lungs are perfectly healthy. Your muscles are healthy, and your ability to breathe and oxygenate your system is completely intact. It is the empathic bond that makes your body _behave_ as though it can't breathe or walk without assistance."

"Is there something you can give me to interrupt the empathic connection?"

Misha paused to think. "This is out of my realm of experience. I'll see if I can find an empathic healer, but my database is limited in that regard—in that I know absolutely no empathic healers. However, as I mentioned, I can give you something to quell the symptoms."

"No."

"Jensen can't," Jared said at the same time.

"I'm a recovering drug addict and cannot take any narcotics."

"How long ago were you addicted?"

"He can't, Dr. Collins." Jared placed his hand on Jensen's shoulder and squeezed.

"He can," Misha countered. 

Jensen sighed, shaking his head sadly. 

"Recovering addicts and even currently addicted patients are not barred from narcotic use. If pain relief via narcotic use is a necessary intervention, with proper oversight, they can be utilized safely and effectively." Misha stared into Jensen's eyes. "Need and addiction are not the same. I will make sure, if it comes down to it, that we do it right."

"Dr. Collins, I don't want to risk it. I can't jeopardize..." Jensen sniffed. "I don't want to risk it."

Jared stroked Jensen's arm softly, letting his calm seep into Jensen's aura. "Don't decide now, love. Let the doc do what's best for you, okay?"

"I don't want them." 

Collins waited a beat. "Very well, then. As I said, we have some good non-narcotic remedies along with meditative techniques that can help."

"Good. Thank you." Jensen said as his left arm jerked twice under Jared's hand. 

Jared looked down and frowned when he saw that Jensen's hand and fingers were twitching.

"I stay away from most over-the-counter medications, so I want to start with the least amount..." Jensen stopped short. He turned his head to the right and stared into space.

"What is it, Jen?" Jared rubbed Jensen's arm.

Jensen looked around the room and blinked.

"What's wrong?" Jared turned to face him. "Is it your breathing?"

Jensen shook his head. "No, but something's…something's strange." Jensen began blinking and his face muscles twitched. He moaned and tried to stand, only to have his knees buckle.

Misha looked at his watch and pushed a button on it. He carefully held Jensen's wrist at the pulse point and said calmly. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Can't…can't, everything's wrong," Jensen's left arm raised up straight over his head. He went pale and asked, "What's happening to me?"

"Do you smell anything unusual?" Misha appeared unruffled as he glanced again at his watch.

"Burning, like hot tar. Oh…what?" Jensen's eyelids flickered open and closed in a steady rhythm.

"What's _happening_ to him?" It took all of Jared's will to keep from shaking the doctor. 

"Calm down, Mr. Padalecki, Jensen's having a seizure."

"A _seizure_? Do something."

"I am. I'm timing it."

Jensen moaned again. His spine arched backward in the wheelchair, his pelvis lifted off the seat, and his jaws clamped shut.

Misha moved the rolling stool aside and rolled the exam table against the wall. "Help him get to the floor."

Jared pulled himself to the present and carefully lifted Jensen's rigid body down to the floor.

"Stand aside," Misha said.

Jensen moaned again through gritted teeth, and his legs started moving like he was pedaling a bicycle.

"He's gonna bite his tongue, we have to stop him." Jared looked around for something to put in Jensen's mouth. He didn’t want Jensen to bite off his tongue. "We have to help him. DO something!"

" _Jared_ , stop. Jensen's not going to bite off or choke on his tongue. Stay calm." Misha's eyes were on Jensen. "And don't touch him."

Jensen's eyes were squeezed shut. The pedaling stopped and his muscles were bowstring tight. 

"Help him, help him, please God, help him," Jared chanted.

"Jared, I know this looks awful but it's more scary than injurious. It'll be over soon and all Jensen will be is tired. He'll be okay."

"How do you know that? You don't _know_ that."

Just then, Jensen began convulsing in earnest, gasping as the seizure overtook his body. Empathic energy had converted to electrical energy in Jensen's brain, short-circuiting his synapses, causing them to fire out of control. Jensen shook from head to toe, tears streaming from his eyes as his body jerked uncontrollably.

Jared didn't know when he began crying, but tears fell down his face and he couldn't seem to stop his pleas to God.

Then, the seizure let up. Like air slowly being let out of a balloon, the shaking eased, and the muscles shuddered and relaxed. Jensen's breathing evened out until he finally opened his eyes. 

"Two minutes, seventeen seconds." Misha said, and then went for his stylus and tablet. "Oh, and I'm admitting him."

Several seconds went by when all Jared heard was the shaky exhales from Jensen's lungs.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Jared sat down on the floor and hefted Jensen into his lap.

"Happened?" Jensen's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"You had a seizure, but it's over and you're okay, now."

Jensen moved his head side to side. " _Not_ okay."

"You're right," Jared said, hugging him. "Not okay. Dr. Collins is admitting you to the hospital."

Jensen reached his hand out weakly for Jared to hold. "You comin' with?"

"Absolutely, I'm sticking to you like glue." He kissed Jensen's knuckles. "Sticky, sticky glue."

Jensen tried to smile, but didn't hit the mark. "Thank you."

"Any time, sweetheart." The phone in Jared's pocket buzzed. He ignored it, choosing to brush his fingers across Jensen's cheek instead.

"It's going to be all over soon and then everything _will_ be okay. Hang in there. We'll get Samantha, she'll break the connection and it'll be over, I promise. I love you, Jen. You know I do." Jared turned his head to wipe his eyes out of Jensen's sight. 

He needn't have worried because Jensen had already fallen into a deep sleep. 

"I've arranged for an ambulance transport to Metro General Hospital. You might want to go home and grab some clothes and toiletries if you're going to be camping out in his room." Misha lowered his voice, "He could be there a while."

"God, I hope so." Jared's phone buzzed again. It was Jeff Morgan.

"Jeff, this is a bad time. Jensen had a seizure and they're admitting him to the hospital."

"Jared, she's missing."

"What?"

"Samantha Ferris. Her house is empty. We lost her."

"What do you mean you lost her? You had eyes on her."

"We did. She's still gone. Can you come in?"

"No. I'm staying with Jensen. It was…it was bad, Jeff. I can't leave him."

"We need you on this. Finding Samantha is the best way you can help him."

"No, _you_ lost her, you fucking find her. Then we'll talk."

"Jared."

"Padalecki out." He closed and pocketed his phone.

~~*~~*~~


	5. Part Five

**_~~*~~*~~NOW~~*~~*~~_ **

"Jensen, come on, babe, wake up." Jared gently shook Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen's breathing was shallow and he was drenched in sweat. 

"Please wake up." Jared whispered frantically. Jensen had been out since those first few minutes after the seizure and Jared needed him to open his eyes. Like air.

Jensen's IV display blinked, the heart monitors beeped, and Jared kept his breathing timed with his. 

Doctor Collins came in to check for progress and note Jensen's vitals. "I know you don't want to hear this, but he's getting worse. I thought he'd wake up within a few hours after the seizure, but more symptoms are appearing."

"He'll pull through. Once she's dead he'll be fine."

The doctor placed a gentle hand on Jared's shoulder. "You have to find Samantha Ferris before it's too late. Jensen's spiraling downhill fast, and unless you find her and break the connection, it's possible that he could go with her."

"How can that be? It doesn't work that way. This is an empathic connection, not a physical one. Let her die. Let her rot for all I care, this will all be a bad dream once she's in hell."

"That's how we think works, but we don't exactly know what happens when an empath dies during an empathic connection. This is uncharted territory. We can't say anything with certainty." 

Misha looked down at Jensen. "Does this look empathic to you? Does this look like a mere connection of energies and not one of physical life forces? Jensen's muscles are weakening, his breathing is labored and his heart is working overtime."

"You don't understand," Jared growled. "Jensen was holding his father's hand when he died and all Jensen got was a little banged up. A connection between a father and son is sacred."

"It's not the same as empath to empath." Misha insisted. "Jared," he gentled his voice. "He's dying. You need to get to work and find a way to break their connection." 

Jared squeezed Jensen's hand harder, whispering in his ear, "It's all going to be over soon. We're going home and then we're going on a long vacation. Just the two of us at the beach, listening to steel drums, and drinking out of hollowed-out pineapples. Please hang on, love, hang on."

Misha spoke, insistently, "I don't see a cure being discovered in time for Samantha. The lab is working at full capacity, but it's not going to happen. We need her to save Jensen."

"We don't know where she is." Jared swiped at his bangs. "Fuck Jensen. He said to let her go home instead of jail. Fuck that."

"Focus, Jared." Misha looked him in the eye. "You have to find her."

"I can't leave him."

"You have to. He'll understand. Use the skills you've worked your whole life to perfect to save _his_ life."

"Jare?" Jensen's voice was weak.

"Hey, hey, I'm here. I'm right here." Jared slid over to sit on the bed next to Jensen.

Jensen's eyelids opened to half-mast. He could barely speak, but his eyes shone with the same fire they always had. "Send him away."

Without asking why, Jared turned to Misha, "Shut off the noise and leave us alone."

Without a word, Collins pressed buttons on the displays, silencing the mechanical sounds, and exited the room. All that remained were two soul mates in a quiet ICU cubicle, huddled side by side on a hospital bed. 

"Jared." Jensen's voice was thin. "Jared?"

"Right here." Jared gathered Jensen into his arms and held him. 

Jensen breathed choppy, uneven breaths; his nose buried in Jared's hair. 

"Relax, love," Jared whispered. "I've got you." 

Jensen trembled, but eased down onto Jared's chest. He asked, "Did you know that I was Catholic once?"

"Yeah." Jared smiled softly. "Little Jensen in choir robes." 

Jensen grasped at the hem of Jared's shirt, but his grip was so weak he couldn't hold on. Jared sniffed, but held it together.

Jensen cleared his throat, "Yeah, I was an altar boy and everything."

"No kidding. So, you speak Latin?" 

"Never." Jensen smiled.

Jared kissed Jensen's hand, fingers and palm. A tear finally dropped and mingled with the desperate kisses. 

"So, uh, do you want a…anything?" 

Jensen's abdominal muscles cramped. He folded in on himself and worked his way through it by taking deep breaths and hissing out small syllables of pain. 

Jared kept his hold on Jensen's hand, waiting for the hurt to let up.

Finally, Jensen settled into an uneasy heap, closing his eyes.

"I maybe want," Jensen held Jared's hand for dear life, "I think I want a priest. Can you ask for one?" He opened his red-rimmed eyes.

"Of course I will, but first," Jared swallowed and continued, "I don't want you to give up. Don't give up on me—on us—on this life. Not for one second, because I am going to fix this."

"Shh, Jared. Shh. This isn't about me giving up. Believe me. If there's anyone in this world I trust. Anyone in this world I believe in. Anyone in this world I would live for, it's you." Jensen caught his breath and held back a sob. "I would do _anything_ for you. But, I don't know if I can take much more of this without…" Jensen faltered, and he covered his face with his hand.

"Easy, Jen. Take it easy."

"I don't want to fail. I don't want to fail you. I couldn't…I couldn't bear it." 

"I don't know what you're talking about. You could never fail me. No matter what happens, you are _my_ hero." Jared's voice cracked on the last word.

"Jared, you're everything I've ever loved." Jensen smiled as best he could. "But you know that."

A wicked muscle spasm caught him off guard, curling him up into a ball of misery at the edge of the bed. 

"Shit…fuck…oh, fuck," Jensen groaned.

"I've got you. I've got you." Jared murmured into Jensen's ear as he rubbed his sweaty, fevered muscles. "Hang on, Jensen. Please, Jen. Hang on."

Jensen finally settled. Small tremors flitted uncontrollably through his body. He shivered and then settled.

Jared brushed his hand through Jensen's short hair. Jensen's whisper was thin-as-rails, "I trust you, Jay. I just don't know if I…" 

"I love you, Jen."

"I know. And that goes a thousand times for me. You've been by my side through thick and thin. You've helped me, saved me, _understood_ me, I…I can't imagine anyone more perfect than you."

"Why are you saying this? You're talking like you're going to die." Jared was earnest. "That's not going to happen. You're all I've ever known. I'm not letting you go."

"I've realized that I don't say these things often enough, or, like, you know, at all." Jensen's voice caught. He clutched his stomach and moaned. "Wait…wait," he gritted out. "Oh, God." 

His voice ended on a low moan, his arms and legs twitching and spasming.

Jared wiped Jensen's face and with a cool wash cloth until Jensen unfolded his legs and breathed easier.

Jared knew what he had to do. "Jen, listen, I'm going to find Samantha and bring her back here. We'll get her to end this. And I promise you—I _promise_ you—I am going to make such fun of you about this when it's all over."

"I don't…I don't think so, Jay."

"Then _I'll_ do the thinking. Promise me that you'll hang on as long as you can. Hang on until your last bitter breath, as long as there's any thread of life left. Hang onto it and wait for me."

Jensen blinked his wet eyes. He caressed Jared's face with the pads of his hot fingers. "I'll try. I swear I will. That's the most I can promise."

"I'll take it."

Jared held Jensen's tremoring body against his chest. Heat, like simmering coals, radiated under his skin. Jared pressed his forehead against Jensen's and whispered, "I have to go, but I won't be far. You need to feel this—feel _me_." Jared pushed every emotion he had into Jensen as best he could. His hopes for their future, his fear, his anger, his love, all of it. 

Jensen made a humming sound and closed his eyes.

In a whisper-soft voice, Jared sang, "Did I ever tell you you're my hero? You're everything I wish I could be."

A tiny smile played at Jensen's lips.

"Oh and I, I could fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings."

Jensen stirred softly, all the tension in his body finally relaxing into unconsciousness. 

"You are the wind beneath my wings."

~~*~~*~~

Jared drove up to Samantha Ferris's home and saw two cops in an unmarked car sitting across the street. He swore he heard the lock slamming shut on the horse-empty barn.

Technically, Jared didn't have permission to trespass onto the property. Legally, he didn't have the authority to break into the house. Literally, Jared didn't give a fuck.

Using a set of lock picks, Jared opened the back door and stepped into what would be called a mud room or laundry room in any other house. In this one, however, there were inset mahogany shelving units for hanging clothes built floor to ceiling. Low shelves were available for shoes, boots, and umbrellas. The high capacity front loaders were sitting up in their matching built-in mahogany cabinets. There were wide windows with window seats, Jared guessed so the kids could watch their parents do the laundry?

He walked into the large, modern kitchen of this grand, old, renovated Victorian mansion. Samantha and Nathan bought this house twelve years ago and over the course of their life here, spruced it up from top to bottom. They lived here with their daughter until Nate died almost four years ago. Jared was trusting that the spirit of Nathan Ferris was nearby.

Jared walked slowly around the kitchen. The walk-in pantry door was ajar and the Viking stainless steel appliances reflected the moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling casement windows. 

Jared sat on a tall stool at the quartz-topped center island and thought, no matter how grand a house may be, the kitchen is always the heart of the home. He folded his hands and concentrated his senses, seeking to communicate with any spirits in the vicinity.

A familiar warm chill passed through him and he relaxed into it. 

Jared filled his lungs and released his breath in a slow, measured exhale. Years of practice had honed his talent to an art. He closed his eyes and waited until the psychic energy in the room made his neck hairs tingle.

The chill in the air became more pronounced, but only just, and then Jared opened his eyes. 

"I took my wife's last name, you know." Nathan stood next to the refrigerator with his hands in his pockets. "She was two years older than me, so that gave her seniority." 

"I didn't know that's how it worked," Jared said. 

The ghost of Nathan Ferris smiled. "I didn't think so, either, but I'd never been in love like that before, so I believed everything she told me. You're not here by accident; you're here to talk to me, and while I'm flattered that you went out of your way to contact me, there's probably a very bad reason for it."

"There is. I need your help, Mr. Fillion-Ferris."

"You know more about me than I thought. I'm intrigued." Nathan hiked his unsubstantial hip onto one of the stone countertops. "Go on."

"Your wife is dying, and so is ..." Jared stopped—blocking the words from coming out.

Nathan didn't notice. "I thought I sensed her life energy weakening." He hopped down from the counter and paced over to the double oven. "As bad as this may sound to you, I'd love her to be here, face-to-face and nose-to-nose with me again. Why do you think I'm still in my kitchen? It's because I don't want to move on to the next journey without her. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about it."

Jared steeled himself against as much emotion as he could and said, "She was poisoned. A new, uncatalogued neurologic toxin was used in a deliberate attempt to murder her. She doesn't know how it got into her system, only that it happened about a month ago. We need to know who had the knowledge to concoct and administer such a murder weapon, and who would want to kill her."

Nathan stood stock still and frowned. His whole appearance misted away for a moment, and a cold wind blew through the kitchen.

"Someone poisoned her? Who did it?" 

"I don't know."

Ice crystals appeared on the range hood, and Jared's breath frosted in the air.

"There's more," Jared said. "Samantha's an empath and so is my partner. She empathically infected him with the same poison as an incentive for us to find her attacker. The poison acted fast, and he's really sick. I can only assume that your wife is as sick as he is. Tell me who would do this."

The frigid air slowly dissipated as Nathan strolled back around. 

"People are pretty much the same dead as when they were alive. I'm not omnipresent, I mostly stay right here. I wasn't clairvoyant in life, like you are. I'm not any more skilled in reading minds or knowing the future now that I'm dead. You, of all people, know that death doesn't give the dead special powers. Why would you expect that?"

"You didn't answer my question. I didn't ask if you knew who did this; I asked who would do this to your wife?" Jared stared into Nathan's lifeless eyes.

Nathan's sigh was heavy for a spirit. "If Sammy dies, will your partner die, too?"

"We don't know, but he was very ill when I left him to come here." Jared stepped closer to the shadow-presence standing by the refrigerator door. "I believe he will die. That's why I left him alone in the hospital, because I have to do everything I can to keep that from happening. Jensen believes he's dying, too. Otherwise he would _never_ have told me how perfect I am." 

Jared was holding it together by a thread. "Your wife has gone missing and she most certainly is dying. Please, if you have any idea where she is, or who could have created a poison like this, tell me. Samantha poisoned my partner because she wanted to live so badly." Jared paused as a thought occurred to him. "Nathan, did you know you were going to be a grandfather?"

"A what?" Nathan's outline sparkled and a burst of lilac-scented mist filled the room. "Allie? My baby girl? She's having a baby of her own?" The lilac fragrance grew sweeter as it wafted through the air.

"Yes. That's why your wife was so desperate to live."

"No." The sudden deep chill hit Jared like a steamroller. "That's not the reason, at least not the only reason." Fillion's voice echoed off the tiled floors. "Sam wanted to keep a motherly eye on Alona, especially now."

"Tell me." Jared tried to keep from pleading outright.

"She was too young to get married. Certainly too young to marry him."

"Marry who?"

The apparition that was Nathan Fillion-Ferris sat heavily in the padded kitchen chair. "My daughter married Tahmoh Penikett about four and a half years ago. Tahmoh was a research worker in one of our PharmCare labs. She was eighteen and smitten, he was twenty-eight. But, when she set her sights, no one could say no to her." Nathan laughed in a sentimental way.

"Being the boss's daughter didn't hurt either," Jared added.

"That's true, but we made it clear that he wasn't going to get any special favors from us, that he would have to work his way up the ladder just like the rest of the staff." Nathan shifted in intensity. "We didn't want him using her."

"Did you like him? Did you get along?"

"We didn't _not_ get along. He was disappointed that he couldn't afford to buy that new townhouse by the water because Sam and I didn't give them more of a down payment. We both thought he was kind of a spendthrift, but that may have been the opinion of two overly protective parents. Mostly, he was an enigma to us. Alona, though, seemed happy enough with him."

"But," Jared prodded.

"Happy enough, wasn't happy _enough_ for Sam and me." He looked apologetically at Jared. "She's my only daughter. I wanted her more than just okay. I wanted her to be happy. Like I was, with Samantha."

Nathan paced back over to his comfort spot by the fridge. "They separated once for a couple of months. Allie moved back here and seemed much happier, but, again, that may've been a dad wanting to see what he wanted to see."

"Then what happened?"

"I died. Fell asleep behind the wheel after working too late." Nathan's form blurred. "Don't let that happen to you. Work is never more important than family. _Nothing_ is more important than family." 

Jared felt Nathan's energy dissolving and knew he had only one question left.

"Working in a PharmCare lab, would Penikett know how to synthesize a dangerous neuro-toxin?"

Nathan put his hands back in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Absolutely." He was barely a translucent mist when he said, "Sam had them for dinner here at least twice a month."

And then he was gone.

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

"Jeff!" Jared ran to his car, shouting into his phone.

"You got something?" Jeff's voice crackled.

"Yes. Meet me at Samantha Ferris's daughter and son-in-law's place. Alona and Tahmoh Penikett. I need the address." Jared fired up the motor.

"We've already been there and questioned them. We got nothing."

"Did you search the house?"

"No, we didn't search the house. No strange answers, no weird sounds. From what I read they were concerned and cooperative. We had no probable cause for a search."

"We have cause, now. Nathan Ferris told me his son-in-law is capable of making the poison and that Samantha had them over for dinner twice a month. He could have put it in her food. Means and opportunity. Two out of three. Did you address that with him?"

"Of course not. As I said, they checked out."

"Nathan addressed it. As an Exotic Investigator, I have a special consideration when it comes to questioning a potential suspect without tangible evidence after questioning a non-corporeal." Jared revved the engine.

"Yes you do, but you can't accuse, or harass. We still need a motive."

"I know. I'm working on it. Let's go."

"We're going in easy, Jared. We're only knocking on the door and asking questions. Understand?"

"Yes. Yes! I need the address."

"Hold on." Jeff's connection hissed. "1841 Harborview West."

"That's by the water, right?" Jared's tires skidded out of the driveway. 

"Right, off the 301 downtown. I'll be there in thirty."

"Make it twenty and we'll be pulling up at the same time." He cranked the wheel to the right and floored it. 

"On it. Morgan out."

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

1841 Harborview West was a big, beautiful townhouse overlooking the water. The outdoor lights were on, illuminating the wraparound porch and front double doors. It was an end-unit so the porch wrapped around the front and the side of the cedar-sided home.

1839 Harborview West was dark and had a **For Sale** sign on the lawn. 

Jared turned off his headlights and pulled into 1839's driveway. As he drew his key from the ignition, a police vehicle pulled in beside him and cut the lights. 

"Remember what I said. Easy." Jeff climbed the steps to the Penikett's home with Jared close behind. "I'm doing the talking."

"You're talking. Got it." Jared's fingers itched to open the door and charge inside. 

Jeff knocked and called, "Metro City PD."

A vague shuffling was heard from inside, and Jeff knocked louder. "Metro City Police Department. We have an update on Samantha Ferris's case."

Another minute went by before the door opened. A chain lock allowed the door to open three inches. The big, brown eyes of a petite, blonde woman peered up at them. There was a faded bruise under her left eye. "Can…can I help you officers?"

Jeff flashed his badge. "Are you Alona Penikett, Samantha Ferris's daughter?" 

"Yes, I'm Alona."

"We have some information regarding your mother's investigation."

"Tell them it's a bad time." A male voice called from within.

"It really is a bad time," she said. "We'll cooperate any way we can, but could you come back tomorrow?" Allie's wet eyes were wide and she made the barest shake of her head.

Jeff made a shooing motion with his hand and she backed up. "We only have a couple of questions, but you're right. It is late." Jeff nudged Jared to back up, pointed to the door, and assumed a wide-based stance. Jared prepared his stance as well. "Sorry to bother you. We'll come back tomorrow afternoon if that's convenient."

As one, Jeff and Jared kicked full force at the open door, tearing off the door chain and damaging the hinges.

Alona placed her hands on her mid-sized baby bump and pressed herself against the wall. A male voice yelled, "What the hell? Hey, get out of my house!" A loud, shivering moan came from the back bedroom and they all went into motion. Jeff went after the man and Jared ran toward the back, stopping first at Alona.

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm okay." She straightened up and followed him. 

Jared walked into the dim bedroom. The smell of sickness permeated the air and Jared could feel her energy waning. Samantha's groans were louder now, and her voice trembled with the intensity of her misery. 

"Please, can you help her? Can you help my mother?" 

Jared looked down at the frail woman, surrounded by blankets, hot water bottles and wash cloths. Her ashen skin was soaked in sweat. Tremors wracked her body and her breathing was uneven. 

"No," he said, sadly. "I can't." 

Alona brought her hands to her lips and tried, unsuccessfully, to hold in a sob. "He brought her here because he said he had the cure, but it didn't work. I'm sorry, momma, I didn't know." 

"No, baby, I'm sorry." Samantha could hardly breathe. Speaking was a tremendous effort, but she turned her eyes to Jared. "I thought, I thought I had more time. I never would have done _this_ to your partner if I had known." Her fevered eyes shone as she gazed into Jared's. "That man was hurting my baby girl and I was too sick. I needed your help." She gulped in a trembling breath. "Please, forgive me."

Jared recognized the sound of her wheezing. It was the same as Jensen gasping for air.

He reminded himself how much he hated this woman, wishing her to rot in hell for attacking Jensen. He despised Samantha Ferris for poisoning Jensen, causing him to suffer like _he_ was at death's door. 

But then Jared stared into her sick, scared, bloodshot eyes. He knelt beside her bed and took her hot, sweaty hand in both of his. "Of course I forgive you, Sam." He pressed his lips to her forehead and stroked her hair. "I'm so sorry we couldn't solve the case in time to save you." 

Alona's sobs echoed softly in the background. 

"Maybe someday, Jensen could…try to…forgive me, too?" Samantha looked so earnest and so fragile. 

"I'm sure he already has."

All the tension left her face and the lines of pain softened. Her eyes opened but she couldn't see.

"'Lona? You here, baby?"

"Here, mom." She took Samantha's hand from Jared and hugged her arms under and around her dying mother.

"I love you, baby girl."

"I know." Alona kissed Samantha's hair. "I know."

"Tell my grandkid that I'll always be…their… guardian angel. I'll watch…forever." 

Sirens blared in the distance. Jeff must have called 911. 

"I love you, mom." Alona was crying openly, now. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Jared quietly left them to say their good-byes—and to keep the EMTs from interrupting them. There was no need for them now.

Tahmoh Penikett looked remarkably unscathed, sitting handcuffed on the sofa with nothing more than a bloody nose. He was stonily silent with a defiant look in his eyes.

"We know you had the knowledge to make the poison. We know you ate dinner at your mother-in-law's house twice a month, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip something into her drink."

Penikett sniffed and shook his head.

Jeff walked from one side of the room to the other. "What I don't know is why."

Flashing lights from the backup Jeff called began lining up on Harborview West.

"You have a beautiful wife, a lovely home, and a baby on the way. These are the things dreams are made of."

"Stingy, penny-pinching in-laws," Penikett said under his breath. "More money than God, and I had to get her pregnant before mommy dearest ponied up the down payment."

A light, cool mist wafted in the air and Jared breathed in. Lilacs. Centering himself he let out the breath and narrowed his eyes. Nathan Ferris shimmered into existence by the bedroom door. A wail of sorrow pierced the house and everyone stopped what they were doing as a sign of respect. 

Samantha Ferris came up behind Nathan and tapped him on the shoulder. He took her hands, spun her around and smiled. They both glittered away.

"Tahmoh Penikett, you are under arrest for the murder of Samantha Ferris. You have the right to remain silent…"

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

Even more blue and red lights lit up Harborview West since Jeff had called for the coroner.

Penikett remained silent after requesting a lawyer, quietly submitting to being taken in to Metro City's Twenty-third Precinct. 

There was so much commotion that Jared didn't feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He didn't hear its soft electronic buzz a few minutes later, and a few minutes after that. He didn't think to check it as the grieving daughter accepted his arms as a modicum of comfort for the cold-blooded murder of her mother, by her abusive husband's hand.

Jared said his last good-bye to Alona and helped her into the front seat of an officer's vehicle. When Jeff approached, he was grim-faced.

"Jared, you need to get to the hospital."

"I know." Jared smiled, tiredly—yawning and stretched his arms wide. "Thank God, it's all over. Jense and I can take a couple of months off to bake ourselves brown on the beach. Or in Jensen's case, bake himself a freckled pink."

"Jared." Morgan turned Jared to face him. "Jensen's not doing well. Dr. Collins needs you back, now."

"What do you mean, he's not doing well? Samantha's dead. I'm sorry that we couldn't save her, I truly am, but when she died, the empathic connection she shared with Jensen should have been severed. He'll be fine."

"Jay." Jeff led him over to his police cruiser and opened the passenger's side door. "Jensen is not fine. Get in."

Jared stared blankly at Jeff's devastated expression and got in.

~~*~~*~~

Collins met them in the hospital lobby wearing the same serious expression Jeff wore.

Jared hurried up to him. "How is he?"

"Jensen's body is wearing out. He's barely hanging on."

"That's not true. You don't know him like I do. Jensen is the strongest person I know. We just have to wait until he senses that the connection is severed and then he'll realize that he's free of her and he'll be okay. He'll be okay. Let me see him."

"Jared, listen to me." Misha held his gaze. "It was bad. He's not in any pain and he's calm now, but I'm guessing the only reason he's still alive is to," the doctor cleared his throat, "is to tell you good-bye."

Jared had heard Samantha's moans and rattling breaths. Imagining Jensen going through those same death throes was unthinkable. 

"Let me see him. Please."

Misha nodded and turned toward the elevator. Jared was at his heels when the doctor said, "I need you to understand something."

"What?" Jared mashed the **UP** button over and over. 

"Jensen did the right thing." He aimed his piercing blue stare at Jared. "He'd want you to know that."

Jared would think about that later, what he wanted now was the fucking elevator.When the doors finally opened Jared said, "Dr. Collins?"

"Yes?"

"He wanted... Jensen asked…" Jared bit the inside of his cheek and tried it again. "Jensen would like to see a priest." 

~~*~~

The lighting in Jensen's room was subdued and the machines hooked up to measure his vital signs had all been muted. 

It looked as though the bedding was fresh, and Jensen wore a clean hospital gown. 

It must have been bad.

Jared tried to ignore it, tried to explain it away, but Jensen's life energy was so faint it was almost non-existent. 

Almost.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm here." Jared smoothed Jensen's sweaty hair away from his face. "Right here."

His eyes were closed, but a slow smile spread across Jensen's chapped lips. "Jay," he sighed. "My Jay."

"I'm sorry I took so long to get back, but everything's okay, now." He held onto Jensen's hand, willing all his heart and soul into his touch.

"I love you too, Jay. So much." Jensen's breathing slowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't go, Jen. Stay with me." Jared twined Jensen's fingers with his.

Jensen's chest rose and fell and stilled. 

A warm, tender breeze puffed against Jared's face. Cut grass and summer rain.

"No, Jense. No."

A diffused aura fizzed in the corner. Jensen's outline was barely visible but it was him. He smiled, and said, "I'm glad you made it back in time."

"Jensen, you don't have to go." Jared squeezed Jensen's hand while staring at his apparition.

"It's not really a choice at this point, love." Jensen's hand grew colder and his aura grew sharper.

Jared opened wide his mind and spirit, as he had done so many times in the past. It was Pavlovian now on Jensen's part, and Jared felt the familiar empathic energy—weakened almost to nothing—but there nonetheless, tremoring weakly up his arm from Jensen's hand.

Jensen's outline blurred. In the hospital bed, his chest rose and fell again two more times and then stopped.

Strength and affection radiated out of Jared, powering straight for Jensen's heart, hoping to keep it beating. 

"You were right. It was bad, Jay." Jensen's spirit coalesced. Stronger this time. "I didn't think I'd be able to hold on long enough to see you this one last time, so I," the spirit flared then contracted, "I asked for something for the pain. Something strong."

"Good. You needed medical help and you got help. I understand that. I never would have forgiven you if you didn't do everything you could to make it back to me."

Jensen in the bed made a small, shallow gasp for breath.

Air in, air out. That's all Jared cared about right now. 

Everything in him made Jared want to break his promise and look into their future. He wanted to show Jensen how they would mellow and age and grow old together. He wanted to convince him to stay because he knew they would have a wonderful future ahead of them. But, he couldn't because he _didn't_ know. He realized that these might, in fact, _be_ their last moments together on this plane of existence. If it was, he wasn't going to risk it by looking into their future and breaking the most solemn promise he had ever made.

Remembering what Nathan had said, that people were basically unchanged after traveling through the veil, Jared pulled a card from his sleeve.

He addressed the presence in the room. "You said you would do anything for me." 

"Anything I _can_ , Jay."

"I made you a promise that I would make fun of you when this was over."

Jensen laughed, fondly. "And that's an incentive to stay?"

Jensen's chest rose and filled completely when his spirit laughed. And that gave Jared another card to pull.

"I intend to keep that promise, you brat." 

Jared let go of Jensen's hand and squared off with his ghost. Jared was clairsentient. Literally, an empath for spirits. "I'm going to make such fun of you for telling me how perfect I was. How I'm the only one your teen-aged heart ever desired, and your favorite boyfriend in the whole world… _evah_."

Jared winked and flashed a dimpled smile. Jensen's apparition faded to a chuckling echo while his actual lungs filled deep and released.

Jared stepped closer to the ethereal presence, smiling. "You're the only one for me, too, babe. I told you once, I'll tell you again. You're all I've ever known. I'll show you what our life _could_ be like if you stay." 

Jared walked right into Jensen's aura, mingling completely with Jensen's essence. He felt the softness of Jensen's spirit all around him, like smooth silk caressing his bare skin. A kiss of warmth on his face. The fragrance of cut grass and rain intensified, mingling with the scent that was purely Jensen.

Since he couldn't foretell their _real_ future together, Jared made it up. And, being that he was in total psychic connection with Jensen's emotions, he unabashedly amped it up as only Jared could.

His eyes rolled back.

They were standing on a snowy mountain top, Jensen swathed in wool and Jared in a puffy down jacket wearing a Sherpa hat with pigtails. Jensen had on skis and held a ski pole in each hand. After Jared stepped down and applied the bindings of his snowboard he closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples. "I can see the future, and…and." He cocked his head to the right. "I see us. Yes, it's us at the bottom of this hill." 

"Is that the best you can do?" Jensen asked, amused. "Some psychic you are, I can't even ski."

"The Great Padalecki sees more. I see us in our cabin, on a bearskin rug, making sweet, sweet love in front of a crackling fire. I'm licking the Hershey bar chocolate, roasted Stay Puft Marshmallows and Honey Graham cracker crumbs off your stomach and chest." He raised an eyebrow. "And I want S'more."

Jensen leaned back onto his poles, laughing. "No, you did _not_ just say that."

"Oh, but I did," Jared said, nodding sagely. "But we're," Jared cocked his head to the left, "undecided about something. Something that needs to be resolved."

"And what is that, oh, Great Padalecki?" Jensen asked, chuckling. 

"We need to know who…who?" His voice shook with mock strain. "Aww, what the hell, winner gets to pick the position." Jared nudged Jensen's shoulder and whooshed down the slope. "And the condiment!"

"It is so _on_!" Jensen's laughter called after him.

~~  
Jensen's spirit body laughed and faded to gray. Jensen's lungs breathed in time with Jared's.  
~~

In the next instant, Jared had them dressed to the nines, sitting on fold-up chairs on the stage in the Metro City Municipal Hall with a host of other well-dressed people. The audience was filled with news cameras, reporters, and the upper crust of the city's society. City Mayor, the Honorable Sterling K. Brown was at the podium delivering a speech.

"…and that is why we are here—to honor the civilian individuals and agencies for their  
commendable service to the citizens of Metro City. These individuals, whom we have the privilege of honoring tonight, have gone above and beyond their civic duty and made it their priority to protect and serve the people of this great city. We are here to award these acts of valor. Some acts of heroism involve voluntary risk of life and limb. Others are honored for sustained meritorious performance of duty."

"You dream big, don't you?" Jensen leaned in, speaking softly.

Jared held his hand in the air. "Wait for it."

"One particular agency has demonstrated outstanding, selfless, unprecedented heroism in the face of danger, adversity and personal harm."

Jensen laughed out loud, "Outstanding, selfless, _and_ unprecedented heroism?"

Jared nodded, "In the face of danger, adversity and _personal_ harm."

"Metro City is proud and honored to present to the Kapok Shade Detective Agency for Exotic Solutions…"

"Oh my God, Jared," Jensen was laughing uncontrollably now. 

Jared grinned. "Keep waiting, here it comes."

"The Key to the City." 

Amid thundering applause, Mayor Brown held up a huge, mounted skeleton key with **Metro City** engraved on it. 

"We award this key to Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles for consistently solving cases faster, with more finesse and for being better looking than the Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books."

The applauding audience rose to its feet.

"You don't just dream big, you create imaginary galaxies!" Jensen stood and turned in a circle, both hands raised in the air. "You must be some kind of elephant. You never forget."

"Never, baby. Never." 

~~

Jared saw Jensen's chest rising and falling in a normal, easy, rhythm. The color had begun to return to his cheeks, but Jensen's apparition was still far too present for Jared's comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut, rolled them back one more time, and hoped for an ace.

~~

They were stretched out in lounge chairs on the sands of an island beach, a shimmering prism of color appearing in the clouds right behind the setting sun. Ukuleles played and pahu hula drums pounded a sultry rhythm, flooding their bodies with a deep and sweltering beat. A sweating Blue Hawaii was in Jared's hand and Jensen sipped on a Mai Tai mocktail as they lay on the darkening beach. Tiki torches fired up one-by-one, like Christmas lights all along the tropical shoreline. 

Behind them, the silhouette of Mount Kilauea smoked ash into the twilight sky. Jared stood and looked down at Jensen. He wiggled his toes in the still-warm sand, and swayed side to side.

The grass skirt he wore swished from right to left with the movement of his hips, and the flowered lei around his neck, made of orchids, hibiscus and pink lokelani swung in a gentle counterpoint. He smiled wickedly as he twirled around, fanning his grass skirt out and, in a low, steamy voice sang, "Day-oh! Daaay-oh. Daylight come and me wan' go hooome."

Jensen sat up so fast, his beach chair tipped back. _"What?"_

"Day! Me say day, me say day, me say day, me say day, me say daaay-oh. Daylight come and me wan' go home." 

"No, no, no! What are you singing that for?" Jensen was laughing and trying to catch his breath at the same time. 

Jared moved his arms and hands up and down in gentle wave-like motions, as he swished his hips in a circle, singing, "Work all night on a drink of rum! Daylight come and me wan' go hooome." 

"Oh my God, Jared, stop." Jensen hiccupped.

He shot Jensen a look and then shook his hips so the grass quivered madly. "Stack banana till de morning come!" Then turned in an opposite circle, waving his arms. "Daylight come and me wan' go home."

"Stop, please stop, that's so wrong for so many reasons." Jensen dissolved in gales of laughter.

"Six foot, seven foot, eight foot, _BUNCH_." Jared leapt up in the air, landing on all fours in front of Jensen. "Daylight come and how low can you go?" He waggled his grass-skirted ass from left to right.

"You win, oh my God, you win. Besides, I don't limbo," Jensen's otherworldly laughter echoed around them, but then he sobered. "God, I want to stay with you." He looked at himself, lying in the bed, as the Hawaiian vision melted away. "I want to stay so badly."

"Then that's all you need to do."

"It's not that easy. Not for me." Jensen's apparition smiled sadly, "I never forgot the promise I made to you to never take drugs again."

"What happened wasn't the same thing," Jared protested. "Not even close." 

"Our whole lives, all we've been through, the only two things you've ever asked of me were to trust in you and not give in to drugs, and I caved—on both counts." 

"Jensen, c'mon, man that doesn't matter. You needed something strong to get you through."

"It matters. I don't know if you know how often I fight these terrible battles with myself. I tell myself that one Percocet won't hurt. They're easy to get. I do have migraines and that's a purely plausible justification. But so is, 'Take the Vicodin, it'll ease the pain in your back –and the sorrow of having to tell Mrs. McKinney that Julia's never coming home.' Jared, I'd won battle after battle with my chemical demons until tonight. Tonight I failed, except that I got to see you."

"You did the right thing. It was a _necessity_ , not a relapse."

"I don't know." Jensen glanced over to his body. "I could need them, you know. The drugs. I could become addicted again. It would be so easy. But, if I go now, I wouldn't have to risk that—or face how I let you down."

"Why are you stupid? Nathan said that we're still the same after we die, but _you_ turned into an idiot. On the one hand, you're not dead, on the other, I _am_ ready to strangle you." Jared shook his head. "I'll chalk it up to the near death thing because if you think, A, that I'm disappointed that you got pain relief, and, B, that dying because of it is a _good idea_ , You. Are. A. Moron."

Jensen in the bed made a heavy sigh.

"I saw what Samantha went through at the end, and if you went through that, you didn't _cave_ , you did the exact right thing because you were suffering." Jared paused, needing a breath. "Jesus, you went through all that, and I wasn't even here."

"Don't, Jared. I was pretty out of it."

"Thank God you got some relief." Jared shuddered. "Thank God for that."

Jensen's spirit faded to a white mist and, in the bed, he took deep, even breaths.

"Stay with me, Jensen, and don't be afraid of the future. Whatever problems may arise from the medication you took, we'll deal with them. You and me, together." Jared turned away from the spirit-smoke and sat on the bed. He kissed Jensen's temple and whispered into his ear. "Stay. Stay with me, my love." 

"You have this knack of getting your way with me," Jensen's spirit said, from the ether.

"We both know that's bullshit." 

The dwindling apparition threw its head back and laughed before flashing, and then fading completely. 

Jared felt as Jensen's forces flew apart and filled the room. Then they settled down into the familiar waves of his normal energy patterns.

Jensen slowly opened his eyes. "I am not a brat."

"You are absolutely the brattiest brat that ever bratted." Jared looked down into Jensen's beloved face. "And I wouldn't have it any other waaay," he whisper-sang.

He kissed Jensen's pale lips, holding an open palm against his strongly beating heart. To his relief, Jensen deepened the kiss for several seconds before pulling back to breathe. He touched Jared's lips with the pads of his fingertips.

"It's over. It's all over," Jared said. "You're going to be fine."

"Thanks for not letting me give up." He looked into Jared's eyes. "For reminding me of what I have right here."

"Don't _thank_ me," Jared grasped both of Jensen's hands in his. "How about you marry me instead?"

Jensen closed his tired eyes and smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

~~*~~*~~


	6. Epilogue

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

**_Epilogue_ **

~~*~~*~~

Grace Bay Club: a five star hotel, on Grace Bay Beach, Turks and Caicos Islands.

"So, what are you wearing?"

"Stop it," she giggled. "You're making me blush."

"Aww come on. Tell me." He switched the phone to his other ear and lowered his voice an octave, "I really want to know."

"Well, since you asked, I've got this crème-colored silk charmeuse that's to die for, paired with a soft black, mid-calf pencil skirt that begs for a pair of Peter Chu's six inch heels."

"Peter Chu? You're giving up your Jimmy Choos?"

"Jimmy Choo is Chau's footwear of choice. I prefer a different, I don't know—je ne sais quoi."

"Then, it's a good thing we pay you so well, isn't it, Miss Chu hua."

"Yes, sir. It's a very good thing. But the reason I called is the Metro PD wanted to know when you'll both be available for consult. Lieutenant Morgan said he was sorry to interrupt your extremely prolonged honeymoon, but he's got a case that's right up your collective alley."

Jensen covered the mouthpiece and leaned toward Jared. "Miss Chu hua wants to know when we can start taking appointments."

"What month is it?"

"Jared wants to know what month it is."

A long, heavy sigh hissed through the cell phone. "It's the end of August. You are so _spoiled_."

"She says August and we're spoiled."

"Tell her she's right. We are spoiled brats."

"Jay agrees with you."

"So, are you coming home or what?"

"Are we coming home or what?" Jensen looked at Jared and raised his eyebrows.

"I was thinking, sometime before Thanksgiving, and then taking off after Christmas." Jared stretched and turned over onto his stomach for an even tan. 

Jensen paused a minute and said, "We'll have a company meeting and get back to you on our timeline. Until then, keep the home fires burning for us, would you?"

"You are both impossible."

Jensen looked at his phone, and then at Jared. "She hung up."

"Smart assistant." 

Jared had whisked Jensen away to Trinidad and Tobago as soon as he could travel. Which was the very next week. Dr. Collins was correct Jensen's body had incurred no lasting damage, but he needed emotional recoup time, and a whole lot of naps. 

Samantha Ferris had been true to her word, because another identical payment appeared in the Kapok Shade's account two weeks after her death. PharmCare's lawyers contacted the Kapok Shade's lawyers with Mark Pellegrino offering an equal sum of money to keep Jensen from suing them for the attack.

Jensen explained that he had no intention of suing Mark's company. The lawyers took that as an okay, and _that_ sum appeared—with a note of congratulations signed by Pellegrino.

They had been on one Caribbean island beach after another since April. 

On July nineteenth, they were married by an official from the Demographic Registry Office when their cruise ship docked in San Juan. Jared had arranged and paid for transport for both of their families and all their friends to attend the ceremony. They were standing and waving at the dock when the _Adventure of the Seas_ pulled in. The reception lasted three days and four nights.

The only down-side was that Jensen's craving for narcotics had been rekindled after taking them at the time of Samantha Ferris's death. 

"It was a momentary necessity, not a relapse, Jense. We got this," Jared repeated on those occasions that Jensen paced all night, biting his nails, and drinking Kona coffee to ignore the urges. But even in these times, Jared knew what Doctor Collins had said was true: Jensen had done the right thing.

Even though the beast had awakened, Jared kept Jensen's mind and body occupied until the physical and psychological need for the drugs finally flaked away like old parchment, leaving the hunger for the drugs buried for now.

"We should probably tell her and Jeff that you're quitting the agency, huh?" Jared propped up on one elbow to look at him.

"Probably," Jensen chuckled. "We should also probably tell them that we're moving." 

This time Jared laughed. "Yeah, probably. But it's only temporary. How long will your studies take all together?"

"For a full Doctorate of Empathic Healing, it'll take at least six years, maybe even seven. Plus, I'll be doing my internships all around the world." He held his hand out to Jared. "We'll get to see the world after all, Jay, just not the way we originally planned."

Jared smiled, "You mean as international super sleuths?"

Jensen blushed and shook his head.

"This is even better," Jared said. "Because when you finish, Doc Collins will have an Empathic Healer on staff at the hospital." Jared took his hand and kissed his fingers. "I'm so proud of you."

"I am sorry about leaving the detective business to you." Jensen was truly remorseful. 

"Not just to me. Osric will make a great detective once he finishes his—what—fourth Master's degree? You were born to be a healer. I have no regrets. You?"

"I don't if you don't." Jensen squeezed Jared's hand. "I have you to thank, because you're the one who's always had faith in me." A gleam came to Jensen's eye. "You taught me everything I know about being special." 

"Amazing how I worked things out like that."

Jensen laughed and Jared thought again: _That's the best sound there is._

Then Jensen grinned a mischievous little grin. He got up in front of Jared and started humming, bumping his hips side to side. He pulled the straw from his drink and held it in front of his lips and sang, "Gonna use my arms, gonna use my legs, gonna use my style, gonna use my sidestep."

Jensen slid over to the right and back to the left. 

"Gonna use my fingers, gonna use my, my, my imaginatiooon cause _I_ gonna make you see," he pointed to Jared and swayed to the left, "there's nobody else here, no one like me. I'm special, so special—I gotta have some of your attention. _Give it to me._ "

Jensen raised his voice and twirled a sloppy pirouette and Jared knew, without even looking, that their future was going to be just fine.

~~*~~*~~

**  
_~~fin~~_  
**

Allow me to extend a very special thanks to my artist .   
A. Her artwork is amazing.   
B. She was a dream to work with, and...  
C. She came through for me in a big way when I needed her--going far above and beyond my wildest expectations. She's a wonderful lady and a talented, tireless artist. This story is so much better for all her efforts. I tip my hat and sparkly hands to you, my dear. 

Please go see all her artwork for _The Kapok Shade Detective Agency for Exotic Solutions_ : [~~HERE~~](http://thruterryseyes.livejournal.com/47263.html)

~~*~~*~~

~~*~~*~~

**_~~Thank you all for reading.~~_ **

~~*~~*~~

**_Music video links in order of performance:_ **

[Disney's Lion King, I Just Can't Wait to Be King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CISzjeS3J8)

[Billy Joel, You May Be Right ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jo9t5XK0FhA)

[ Paul McCartney and Wings, Helen Wheels ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_2Zf7vKj9g)

[ Bette Midler, The Wind Beneath My Wings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iAzMRKFX3c)

[ Harry Belefonte, The Banana Boat Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMigXnXMhQ4)

[The Pretenders, Brass In Pocket (I'm Special)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7Hy7uAb_eU)

~~

**_My Favorite Links:_ **

~~  
[ Sherlock Holmes Short Stories and Novels](http://bakerstreet.wikia.com/wiki/List_of_Sherlock_Holmes_Short_Stories_and_Novels)  
[Vietnamese names](http://names.dulya.com/origin/vietnamese-names_0.html)  
[Chinese names](http://www.top-100-baby-names-search.com/female-chinese-names.html)  
[Jimmy Choo](http://us.jimmychoo.com/)  
[Fre Wines](http://www.frewines.com/)  
[The Who—See Me Feel Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sc4REpJ9FsE)  
[Auras and Their Meanings](http://paranormal.lovetoknow.com/Aura_Colors_and_Their_Meaning)  
[Grace Bay Club, Turks and Caicos](http://www.fivestaralliance.com/luxury-hotels/providenciales/grace-bay-club?gclid=CJPS9e3hj8UCFdgDgQodk2EA3A)  
[Peter Chu Shoes](http://www.orientvisual.com/6inchforever/index.php?querytype=home)

**Author's Note:**

> Allow me to extend a very special thanks to my artist .  
> A. Her artwork is amazing.  
> B. She was a dream to work with, and...  
> C. She came through for me in a big way when I needed her--going far above and beyond my wildest expectations. She's a wonderful lady and a talented, tireless artist. This story is so much better for all her efforts. I tip my hat and sparkly hands to you, my dear. 
> 
> Please go see all her artwork for _The Kapok Shade Detective Agency for Exotic Solutions_ : [~~HERE~~](http://thruterryseyes.livejournal.com/47263.html)
> 
> ~~*~~*~~
> 
>  
> 
> Music video links in order of performance: 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Disney's Lion King, I Just Can't Wait to Be King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CISzjeS3J8)
> 
>  
> 
> [Billy Joel, You May Be Right ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jo9t5XK0FhA)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Paul McCartney and Wings, Helen Wheels ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_2Zf7vKj9g)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Bette Midler, The Wind Beneath My Wings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iAzMRKFX3c)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Harry Belefonte, The Banana Boat Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMigXnXMhQ4)
> 
>  
> 
> [The Pretenders, Brass In Pocket (I'm Special)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7Hy7uAb_eU)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~
> 
> My Favorite Links: 
> 
> ~~  
> [ Sherlock Holmes Short Stories and Novels](http://bakerstreet.wikia.com/wiki/List_of_Sherlock_Holmes_Short_Stories_and_Novels)  
> [Vietnamese names](http://names.dulya.com/origin/vietnamese-names_0.html)  
> [Chinese names](http://www.top-100-baby-names-search.com/female-chinese-names.html)  
> [Jimmy Choo](http://us.jimmychoo.com/)  
> [Fre Wines](http://www.frewines.com/)  
> [The Who—See Me Feel Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sc4REpJ9FsE)  
> [Auras and Their Meanings](http://paranormal.lovetoknow.com/Aura_Colors_and_Their_Meaning)  
> [Grace Bay Club, Turks and Caicos](http://www.fivestaralliance.com/luxury-hotels/providenciales/grace-bay-club?gclid=CJPS9e3hj8UCFdgDgQodk2EA3A)  
> [Peter Chu Shoes](http://www.orientvisual.com/6inchforever/index.php?querytype=home)


End file.
